


Leverage

by Iszabeau_N



Category: Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: Arranged Marriage, Assault, Bigotry & Prejudice, Bisexual Male Characters, Biting, Branding, Comfort Sex, Consensual Sexual Bondage, Consensual Underage Sex, Control Issues, Denial, Dysfunctional Family, Dysfunctional Relationships, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, Family Drama, Family Issues, Family Secrets, Forbidden Love, Gay Male Character, Gay Marriage, Guilt, Guilty Pleasures, HIM OR ME!, Hair-pulling, Hate Sex, Heartache, Incest, Jealousy, Kidnapping, M/M, Mention Of Windward Ruins, Mention of past threesome m/m/m, Mention of the Companions, Multiple Partners, My Dragonborn Partakes, Non-Consensual Voyeurism, Non-Sexual Bondage, Older Man/Younger Man, Opium, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Past Torture, Past Underage Sex, Physical Abuse, Prostate Massage, Prostate Milking, Public Humiliation, Racism, Rape, Rebellion, Recreational Drug Use, Royalty, Scalping, Secret Relationship, Sexual Assault, Sharing Amongst Friends, Sharing Body Heat, Spit As Lube, Straight Ulfric/Gay Male Mer, Sympathetic Ralof, Tags May Change, The Meat In The Fucking Sandwich, Torture, Treason, Ulfric is a bit of a sadist where Athell is concerned, Underage Drug Use, Voyeurism, Where Does Your Fucking Loyalty Lie!, You haven't had a hand job till you've had one from a male!, forced blowjob, keeping secrets, spitting
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-12-28
Updated: 2017-09-27
Packaged: 2018-04-20 09:57:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 37
Words: 107,508
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4783121
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Iszabeau_N/pseuds/Iszabeau_N
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"My debt to you is paid Ulfric... I owe you nothing more." Ulfric looked into the back of the cart, the furs wrapped around the body were stained dark red from the blood that had seeped through them.<br/>"What is this, that it would settle your debt!" His large, calloused hand motioning toward the bundle. "What is this to me Agnin, but another waste of my time!"</p><p>Looking at the Jarl from under his hood, he chuckled. "It is the final pawn in the game..." Walking over to the body, he lifted the fur just enough, giving Ulfric a good look. "It is the leverage you need to win this bloody war!"</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Disgrace

**Author's Note:**

> 04/19/18 - Posting tomorrow on the first part of next chapter. Also another for Mutt and Wild coming up. Then another for this. Then working on Conflict, Haikyuu and Taboo, then back and so on. 
> 
> I've gone through and edited most of my chapters on each fic. I apologize for the errors you may still see, but English is not my primary. So I will try to do some editing every time I post. The majority is some punctuation here and there. I thank you all for reading and for your patience.
> 
> First, I have to say, there is some harsh shit going on in this story. That doesn't mean I agree with it all in reality, it's a story. I love Ulfric to death, but he's working out a lot of personal stuff here, so not always a nice guy.
> 
> *This is Pro-Stormcloak, but there will be some divergence not only where the Thalmor are concerned, but here and there as well. It will not be exactly like the game, but I will try to stay true to lore where I can. 
> 
> My male Mer character is gay and he defends his right to be... or maybe I should say, he tries. Also, he is a direct descendant of the Aldmeri bloodline. This has nothing to do with ESO, it takes place in 4th era, Elder Scrolls V time. It begins in the Isles and then moves into Skyrim. It will not be centering around the Dragonborn, but he will become more of an integral part of the story once it moves into Skyrim. 
> 
> **Dealing with a lot of stuff in both places and a lot of political strife. Dealing with my OC's family issues, his bloodline & the hatred that Ulfric harbors for the Thalmor, along with his bitterness toward the Mer races in general. **There will be some divergence for the Diplomatic Immunity quest line** This story is definitely for any fan of Mer and Stormcloak. You may find that to be an odd combination, but not me! I love them all. Especially Mer. So enjoy.
> 
> I only own my OC's.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> His father bore down into his face, his voice low and even. "I know who that bastard is you lay with! And I will do _all in my power_ to make sure you never see him again!"
> 
> Tightening his grip around Athell's throat. Shaking him with each sentence. "You are my only son! You will _NOT_ disgrace me... you will _NOT_ dishonor me! You will do as you are told!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I usually try so hard to skirt around the majority of the politics in my stories. But for some reason, this plot and these characters kept coming to me. So, I figured what the hell... there will still be divergence, as mentioned before, where the war and the Thalmor and some of the quest lines are concerned. Sorry, if this isn't for everyone.

*********

"You are of age now, it is time you began taking your role in this family seriously!"

His father began pulling clothing from the wardrobe, throwing them onto the bed. "The dinner party is in two hours, you are getting ready! And plait your hair, that is her preference... she mentioned it to your mother."

Athell stood at the window, his arms crossed, looking out over the ocean. Helplessness, rage, sadness, which one was worse? He was overwhelmed by them all! "I've already told you, _I'm not going!"_ Shaking his head sharply in denial.

His father's hand dug into his arm, whirling him around to face him! His green eyes glaring down at him! "Athell, this foolishness will cease!"

Straining against his father's grip, knowing the spot would be covered in bruises by tomorrow. "Foolishness! Foolishness, is me having to marry someone I barely know! Someone I don't even love!" He couldn't bear the thought of sitting through another party, another get together with her and her family! His father rolled his eyes letting loose of his arm.

He strode to the bar, pouring himself a glass of wine. "You should know by now, this has more to do with bloodline and power than love." Downing half his glass he turned, resting his lean frame against the bar. Sweat, already apparent through his silk shirt.

He reached up, pinching the bridge of his nose in frustration. "It has to do with heirs, Athell."

Looking up, narrowing his eyes at him. "If it needs to be an act, then act... simply go through the motions." Waving his hand nonchalantly.

As if him being doomed to a life sentence with someone he couldn't stand, was nothing! Having to sneak to see the one he loved, neither of them being able to have a decent life... the kind of life they truly deserved to have. Together.

Athell turned back to the window, the thought of bedding her made his stomach turn... and children? He had absolutely no desire to have them, at least not with her. Maybe once his partner retired, they would adopt. They'd actually talked about it.

But now with this war. He was leaving, in just two days...

What if he never saw him again, what if he was killed! What would he go through while he was there.

How could he even think of entertaining this... this, boring, spoiled little... when all of this was going on!

His father's voice had faded into the background, all he could think about was getting to the lake house. Getting out of here, they would have a whole day and night together before he departed. Looking down at the waves as they crashed to shore. His father's voice instantly booming back into his head, his long fingers clutched the windowsill.

"Heirs..." His voice venomous, "You have to be able to get hard for that, don't you!"

Turning to his father, "That might be a problem, or are you planning on extracting that from me as well! The way you plan on ripping everything else I love away from me!" Tears were running down his face, hitting the floor. He couldn't take this anymore, he would leave first!

The wine glass, flew from his father's hand! shattering against the wall, next to his head! Athell's arm raised, attempting to shield his face. Instantly, his father was on him! Long fingers wrapped around his throat, pushing him into the open window. His eyes bulging in terror, his mouth open in shock. He was too busy holding onto the window sill to fight him.

His father bore down into his face, his voice low and even. "I know who that bastard is you lay with! And I will do _all in my power_ , to make sure you never see him again!" Tightening his grip around Athell's throat. His hair, flying out of his ponytail. His face reddened in rage. Shaking him with each sentence! "You are my only son! You will NOT disgrace me! You will _NOT_ dishonor me! _You will do as you are told!"_

"Heceril! By the divines, what...!" His father dropped him onto the floor at the sound of his mother's voice. Laying in a heap, gasping for breath, holding his throat. She rushed toward him, his father passing her stiffly. She knelt down to him looking back at his father, as if he were insane.

He paused at the door, "Get him ready! We've wasted enough time..." Rubbing his temples, squeezing his eyes shut. "This! this, is the son I have been graced with!" Athell was sitting up now, her arms wrapped around him.

Heceril's voice raised pointing at him, looking at her in disgust. "He would rather lay with a male, than protect our heritage!"

Looking down at his son. "You will be the ruin of me!"

His mother's eyes widened. "SSHHH! they will hear you!"

As if he could look any more enraged, the redness once again, flooded his face. "They are here!"

Throwing up his hands, he turned to the door. "Wonderful!" He walked out, taking pains _not_ to slam the door behind him.

***********

Helping him over to the bed, the look on his face was one of complete and utter despair. Tears flowed down his face as she held him, rocking him... her hand rubbing over his hair. Softly whispering to him, "I know baby... I know. It will work out Athell... I know it will."

He just clung to her, her shoulder wet from his tears.

This wasn't the first time something like this had happened and unfortunately, this wasn't the worst. There was so much stress with this war now, his father wanted this marriage more than anything. It was hope and desperation, an attempt to cleave to a way of life that so many were leaving. Their older generations, those in the government, royals, the Thalmor.

They were willing to do whatever it took to preserve these ways, especially after the war... and now this in Skyrim. The threat to their people was great, so much change and so much destruction. Many of the wives she was friends with, feared what was happening in Skyrim would someday happen right here.

That was the problem, the younger Altmer were no longer in agreement with the old ways. In her eyes an arranged marriage, especially in Athell's case was cruel. They had a daughter,and sooner or later she would wed, why was this even necessary? When they themselves, could possibly still bear another child, why push this onto him?

She wanted him to be happy. She had met his partner, and even though he was quite a bit older than Athell, they seemed so good together.

Pushing him away enough to see his face. "I'm going to pack you a bag, you're going to go to the lake house."

The lake house had been in her family for so many years, her husband didn't even know of it. It was Athell's hideaway under times of stress and a private place to see his love. He looked at her in disbelief, "But..."

She put her hand up, quieting him. Standing, she rushed to the wardrobe. "Get what you need from the vanity, hurry!"

Throwing clothes and boots into the bag, she walked to a painting on the wall moving it to reveal a safe. Opening it, she completely emptied it. With his eyes on what she was doing, he walked to the bed, dumping a brush, his circlet and numerous vials into the bag.

Standing there watching her, he couldn't believe what she was doing for him. She had always been his defender, but this... this would be a lot for her to handle.

Closing up the loaded bag, putting her hands on his arms, looking into his eyes. She was starting to tear up, "I will hail you a carriage, don't take ours the driver will open his mouth. You go to the lake house, stay with him until he leaves... then you leave with him."

His mouth fell open, "Mother... I canno..."

Cutting him off, "You know this is the only way." Tears were running down her face now, "Take whatever you need from there when you go, you have enough gold to get you by for quite awhile and enough for passage."

Pulling him into a tight embrace, "He will agree Athell, you know this. It's the only way for you to be together, and to get away from here."

Pulling away to dry her eyes. She would have to act accordingly, if she planned to fool her husband. "I will tell them you fell ill suddenly. Don't worry about your father, I'll deal with him."

He was rushing to get his coat, "When you get settled, you send correspondence to the lake house. I'll send anything you need... anything! alright?"

They hurried down the corridor, to a back staircase leading into a storage room. Out the back door into the night air. The main road running along this side of the property. After a few minutes, they spotted a carriage heading their way. It slowed to a stop.

She turned to him, having to look up now that he was standing. She took his face in her hands, wiping his tears with her thumbs. "You go! be with him. You need to be happy Athell... I love you."

Taking a deep breath, she pushed away watching as he climbed up into the carriage.

Rushing back to the house, just inside the door she turned and watched, as he faded into the distance.


	2. Time With ~O~ (part one)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It was just like him to leave something, he was such a romantic. Only Athell knew that of course, it was something that was just his. He sat down opening it. Just two short lines in his elegant script. "Can't wait to hold you again. Just one more week.. I Love You... ~O~"  
> Running his fingers over the writing, he must have left it right after their last time together. Bringing the letter to his face, he breathed in, taking in the scent that still clung to it.
> 
> It still smelled like him. He couldn't wait...

********

The cottage was quite a ways down the shoreline. Setting back from the waters edge, up on a hill surrounded by dunes. He loved it, peaceful... just the right size for them. The perfect vacation home. Several hours of riding gave him plenty of time to think about what had just happened. He still couldn't believe his mother had done this. This was a lot of heat to take on his behalf... this was huge.

Their family, the other family, the political and personal implications. The more he thought about it, the more sick he felt. Wondering what his mother was going through right then, for someone to cause his father embarrassment... not a good thing. That coupled with the fact that he had to leave his homeland, to escape who he was.

He knew she would do whatever necessary to keep his father from his room, she'd done that before in the past as well. At least long enough for them to set sail.

By the time he realized he was really gone, it would be too late, he'd be on a ship. She would act as if his leaving was a surprise, she would blame him for pressing the marriage. The carriage pulled up to the small cottage, grabbing his things he jumped down.

Unlocking the door he walked in. It would take just a few minutes to settle in, open windows, light lanterns and candles. He needed some wine bad... and some smoke.

Walking into the bedroom, laying his bag on the bed. He bent over to unlock the nightstand. Pulling a small, decorative leather pouch and a long, slender pipe from the drawer. 'Ahh... sweet relief.'

Standing, his eyes combed over the bed, spotting something on one of the pillows. Kneeling down onto the bed so he could see it better. It was a folded piece of parchment.

Excitement coursed through him, a grin spreading ear to ear. It was just like _him_ to leave something, he was such a romantic. Only Athell knew that of course, it was something that was just his. He grabbed it off the pillow and sat down, opening it.

Just two short lines in his elegant script. " _Can't wait to hold you again. Just one more week. I Love You... ~O~"_

Running his fingers over the writing, he must have left it right after their last time together. Bringing the letter up to his face he breathed in, taking in the scent that still clung to it. It still smelled like him. He couldn't wait.

Laying the note on the nightstand, he would make sure to let him know just how much it meant once he arrived.

He relished the laziness of being here, life at his home was so unbearably rigid. But here he could sit about half dressed. They both enjoyed it. Kicking off his boots, he got into something more comfortable. Burgundy silk shirt, left open. Loose fitting black pants, hanging at his hips... bare feet. Untying his white blonde hair, it hung to the middle of his back. Shaking it out as he walked into the main room. Lighting the fireplace, he sat down and propped his feet up.

Bottle of wine on the table next to him, the pouch and pipe in his lap. Reaching up to tuck his hair behind his ear, his finger caught on his earring. A smile instantly came to his face, as he fingered it gently, a gift...

Of course his father had hated it. And that fact, had only made him love it all the more. If his father only knew who had given it to him. Of course, it was possible that he did. Oh well. Along with the fact that his lover had done the piercing himself. The small gold hoop had been hand made by him, a gift on their first year anniversary.

Along with other things...

They'd had three days together and just thinking about it, made him smile to the point that his face hurt.

Taking the small serving tray off the table, he pulled out some bud and set to work cleaning it. Packing the pipe, he moved the tray back to the table and brought up a small flame from his finger and thumb. Lighting it up he took a hit. His mouth watered, even at the smell... it always did. Holding it in, as the front door opened. Reclined in the chair, watching him as he walked in. Casual's on... travel bag slung over his shoulder.

Ondolemar bent down in front of him, smiling. Athell leaned forward, meeting his mouth... exhaling into the kiss.

Sucking in the sweet smoke, Athell moved his legs so he could get up to him properly. Breaking away, he turned his head to blow it out. Athell's arms wrapped around his neck, "You're here early... I was planning on surprising you." 

Ondolemar had wanted to get the place ready for him. He had a surprise. He could only pray, that it would turn out the way he hoped it would.

As soon as the words were out, his young lover's face dropped. Taking the pipe from his hands, the hold around his neck tightening. He pulled him up into an embrace, speaking softly against his neck and hair. "What happened..."

He knew he wouldn't be here early unless it was bad. His hands rubbed up and down Athell's back slowly, feeling the slight shake go through his slender body as he wept.

He should've retired when he'd first thought about it, then this mess with Skyrim happened. They could've been together by now, of course Athell's father being who he was. That had slowed things up tremendously. One of his own men had let it slip to Heceril, not even on purpose, no malice intended. That was all it took though, and the war was on. 

It was right after that, that his father had pushed for the marriage arrangement.

Two males together, it wasn't an uncommon thing to say the least. The problem was his father's belief's, coupled with who he was. He felt it would be an embarrassment to their family and he wanted heirs. He didn't care about what Athell wanted, or what made him happy. He should've taken Athell away right then. 

Hindsight.

They'd had some hurdles to overcome, right from the very start. Mostly over Ondolemar's worries.

First, he couldn't believe that such a young Mer wanted him. After being introduced at a social gathering, Athell had actually pursued him. The very next day he'd received a letter, stating that Athell wanted to meet with him. He'd been so forward about it, Ondolemar had not only been shocked, but a little taken aback.

At first he didn't know what to do, but propriety demanded, he at least give him a reply. They'd written back and forth for a whole week, Athell's letters becoming more and more romantic. More personal... more persistent. He just couldn't believe it. The fact that he was being wooed, by this beautiful, young royal.

After finally agreeing to go out with him, their very first date... Athell had come on to him. Not aggressively, but not subtle either. He of course was flattered, but it had frightened him as well. The whole evening, giving him slight touches, caresses.

Then at the end of the evening, the carriage they'd hired dropping Ondolemar at his estate. Athell had walked him to his door, both of them flushed... nervous. More than likely, it had just been him that was nervous. Athell had seemed to be in complete control. 

After unlocking his door, he'd turned to tell the young Mer goodnight, only to be pushed back against the stonework. Athell's body had pressed into his, his hand around Ondolemar's neck, lips coming down onto his... Gods! He hadn't been so turned on, in so long.

The way he'd kissed him, hungry, but at the same time teasing him. Just enough tongue to make him want more. He'd never had anyone come onto him like this. They'd finally broken apart, both of them catching their breaths, just staring at each other for a few moments. Athell calmly and quietly said goodnight. Then he turned and walked back to the carriage. Leaving Ondolemar standing there in shock... turned on and in shock.

He wanted to continue just seeing each other socially for awhile. He wanted to make sure it wasn't just some crush. But Athell wouldn't have it. Every time they met, Athell would be more physical, his advances more direct. He'd wanted to progress their relationship along quickly and within several weeks time, they'd slept together. The fact that he was Athell's first... it meant a great deal to him.

He was also worried, that their age difference would be a problem down the road. He had worried over a lot in the beginning.

He was fifty, still very young for an Altmer. But Athell was only eighteen when they met. He'd fallen for the young Mer so hard and so quick, it had scared him. He'd never felt for anyone the way he did for him. Coming from a royal household, growing up with that responsibility, he was very mature for his age. That wasn't the problem... he was afraid, afraid of the complications that would come along with who he was. Afraid of their age difference, anything he could come up with to keep from doing, what he planned to do before he left.

It had been ridiculous to be afraid, he knew that now. They'd been together for a year. Celebrating their anniversary two weeks ago, they'd gotten this far, even with his father trying to stop them. They would get through whatever was thrown in their path. 

_This_ was the Mer he wanted to spend the rest of his days with.

Speaking against Ondolemar's shoulder, his speech muffled. "Ond... he attacked me... he choked me." 

Instantly taking his arms, he pushed him back. He had to see his face, raising his hand to feel of his throat. Athell's eyes red rimmed from crying. Letting out a deep breath, getting off his knees, he sat down on the foot stool.

"My mother, she walked in during. After he left, she started packing my things..." His face pinched up, throwing his hands up to cover it. Ondolemar gently rubbed his legs, he felt so helpless. Athell was almost hysterical now, "I can't marry her! I can't go through this anymore. I just can't... I love you." Trying to speak through it, forcing his voice to slow. "She said the only choice was for me to leave."

Wiping his face, letting out a breath. "Ond... she wants me to leave with you."

He was afraid of that. He took his hands, holding them, staring down at them. There was no way he could take him... no way.

Ondolemar's green eyes travelled back up to his face, by the second, his heart was sinking lower and lower into his guts... they were trapped. There was no time to get him someplace safe here, Skyrim definitely wasn't safe! He wouldn't be able to stay with him, his father would have word out that once found, he was to be returned.

He would have other Thalmor and soldiers watching his every move, they wouldn't be able to be seen together. If they were, Ondolemar would be implicated... then, he would face court martial. That's if Athell wasn't killed by a beast, creature, a Stormcloak... any number of dangers lurking in that Gods forsaken place!

He wasn't a soldier, he was royalty. As skilled as he was magically, he wasn't prepared for that place.

If he left him here, their only place of respite would be discovered, then he would be forced into a loveless, prison of a marriage. The problem was, Ondolemar could be there for several years, depending on events. There might be a way, but.. would Athell be willing to wait that long for him? Even if he could find a safe place for him to stay. If he was, willing to wait... he wouldn't have to work, he could send him money each month, enough to live well on. But they wouldn't be able to see each other. For Gods knew how long.

Trying to go over it in his head, he looked up to see Athell's bright, green eyes watching him. He had to reassure him, "We have all day tomorrow to talk about that... we'll figure it out. Alright? I promise." Giving his hands a squeeze, "Tonight, I just want to be with you." 

Forcing a smile onto his face, he had to lighten the mood.

Athell nodded trying to smile. Ondolemar stood, picking up the pipe, pulling the young Mer to his feet. "Lets take this and that wine, to the bedroom. Shall we?" Not even caring if they just lay together tonight, after all the stress... that would be fine with him. Just to be with him, would be enough.

*********


	3. Time With ~O~ (part two)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sticking his hand into this pocket, fingering the object inside. Closing his fist around it as he pulled his hand out. Fighting the fear that threatened to overwhelm him, he dropped his clothes.
> 
> He wouldn't be a coward! He wouldn't be.
> 
> The young Mer lay in bed, watching him. He'd pulled back the sheet for him, patting the mattress.
> 
> Working himself up to it. 'He had to do this before they left... he just had to.' Everything in him felt that if he didn't do it now, he might lose the chance forever.

*********

Ondolemar filled their glasses. Setting them down onto the nightstand along with the pipe. Turning so he could snuggle into Athell from behind, he wrapped his arms around him. Resting his chin on his shoulder. They were almost the same height. _He_ being just a touch taller. Athell's build was slim, almost to the extreme. Toned, but very slim. 

Ondolemar absolutely adored his physique. Tiny and tight.

Smiling down at the hands, that were softly caressing his stomach and chest. Slowly moving his hands up and down Ond's legs, rocking his bottom up against him playfully.

Ondolemar smiled against his shoulder, his whiskers tickling his skin, as the shirt slid off from him to the floor. Moving his long flaxen hair to the side, lovingly, little kisses peppered the tattoo on the back of his neck. His family's banner.

Whispering against his skin, "I'm trying to behave honorably and you're tempting me."

Athell laughed. "When have I ever said that I wanted honorable..." Pushing his bottom further into him, Ondolemar's hands moving down to unlace his leggings, rubbing across the growing length that was nestled inside. Athell turned, dropping his breech along with the pants, kicking them off. Eyeing him coyly, noticing that he was still fully clothed. "Do you need some help?"

He just shook his head, "No... I'm fine, you just get comfortable."

Sticking his hand into this pocket, fingering the object inside. Closing his fist around it, as he pulled his hand out. Fighting the fear that threatened to overwhelm him, he undid his clothes and dropped them to the floor.

He wouldn't be a coward! He wouldn't be.

The young Mer lay in bed, watching him. He'd pulled back the sheet for him, patting the mattress.

Working himself up to it. 'He had to do this before they left... he had to.' Everything in him felt that if he didn't do it now, he might lose the chance forever.

Completely naked, one hand clenched into a fist, he stepped over to the nightstand. Just standing there, looking down at the note he'd left for him.

Athell propped himself up onto his elbow, trying to figure out what he was doing. He was acting so odd... perhaps it was just all the stress. He picked up a glass and drained it, Athell's eyebrows raised up. There was definitely something wrong. His mind wanted to fly to all the things happening, his worst fear... that maybe Ondolemar would decide that their relationship... that _he_ wasn't worth all this. Maybe that's why he was pausing.

Finally he climbed into the bed, facing him. Athell pulled the sheet over the both of them, moving in closer. Although everything in him wanted to, he wouldn't question, he would wait. Ondolemar tended to be quiet about things, he knew he would speak when he was ready. Both their heads laying on the same pillow, Athell draped a leg and arm over him. Just inches between their faces, he watched as the Mer he loved, went through his inner struggle.

Ondolemar's arm wrapped around him, his hand at his back, fiddling with the ring.

He'd gone through this in his head, over and over. But nothing sounded right now. He closed his eyes... Athell lay there watching him, trying to fight the tension that was growing in the pit of his stomach. Ondolemar swallowed, his eyes opened... his voice almost a whisper. "Marry me..."

For a moment Athell just stared at him, his mouth dropped open. Ondolemar watched him... watched him process it.  His eyes welled up, brows and mouth quivering... bringing both hands up to his lover's chest. His voice cracked, "Ond..."

Bringing his hand around to show Athell the ring that was resting on his first knuckle. It was way too small to fit all the way onto his finger. A wide band, but cut to fit Athell's slim fingers.

Looking at it, then back up to him. His hands came up to Ond's face, tears were spilling over now.   Pulling his face into his, he broke.  Sobbing, "Yes... yes."

Their foreheads pressed together, just hearing that, he felt like a ton of weight had lifted off from him. Even with all that they still faced.

Taking Athell's hand, he pulled the ring off from his finger, "I made this for you, I have one for myself as well... I wanted to wear them now. I didn't know how you would feel, but I didn't want to wait until the ceremony. If I can wear it now, at least I can feel like you are mine." 

The young Mer looking into his eyes, "I _am_ yours Ondolemar... I have been since we first met."

Finally, a tear escaped, rolling down his face to the pillow, "Look inside... there's an inscription." 

Propping up onto his elbow, Athell held it up into the candle light.  Turning it.

On the inside, in Aldmeris read, ~Forever Nu Vera Ry Para~ _(Forever We Two As One)_

Tears running down his face, lips and chin quivering, he handed the ring back to Ondolemar. He didn't have the strength to speak. He knew he would break... anything that managed to escape him now, would only be incoherent babble. Athell held up his hand, so he could put the ring on him.

Sliding the ring onto Athell's index finger, entwining their hands together.  His voice shook, as he fought his tears. "I love you Athelleen Aldmeri... I love you, so very much." 

*********

Ondolemar was a silent lover. Other than some gasps here and there, he rarely made noise.  That was fine, Athell wasn't a real noisy lover either.  The only time either of them had made a lot of noise, were the first few times they'd been together. 

Over their year together, learning each other. He'd found that watching the expressions on Ond's face, was better than any noise he could ever make.  Tonight, after everything... every sensation seemed unreal, overwhelming. He'd had to close his eyes against it... watching him was just too much.

Leaning back, his hands resting on Ondolemar's thighs, holding himself up.  His head tilted back, eyes closed, mouth open. He rose and fell, rocking against him... grinding into him. He felt so, so good.

it was Ondolemar that couldn't take his eyes off of him, he was afraid to. It felt like this was the last time he would see him. The last time for anything. 

He wanted to remember every second.

Skin glistening with sweat, his slender cock bouncing as he rode him. 

Letting one hand roam freely over Athell's slim, golden chest. The other, now wrapping around him, pulling him to climax. Watching his hair fly as he thrashed on top of him, clenching up around him, as he painted his chest white.

Laying tangled up together, waiting for the pulsing inside of him to stop. Enjoying the feeling of their sweat combined with his seed, Athell turned the ring on his finger... smiling.

*********

Getting a warm wet cloth, Ondolemar cleaned them up. He lay with him until he passed out, with all the stress and everything else combined he was exhausted. He'd carefully gotten out of bed, filled his glass and gone to the writing desk. He knew what he needed to do.

A letter, to the one Mer other than Athell that he could trust, Ancano...

' _Come to the lake house, URGENT!  This is what I need...'_

He finished the letter.  Barefooted, wineglass in hand, he walked out to the road. Glancing at his ring every few minutes, while he waited for a carriage to pass.  The letter would be delivered shortly.  They would have all day and night to plan before boarding the next morning. 

The carriage driver leaving with the letter and his coin, this... this was the only way they could make it.  Listening to the waves, he walked back to the house, sipping on his wine.

  He would curl up around the best thing to ever happen to him, and try to sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't know why all rings are on the index finger in the game, but I'll stick to that.  
> **Also, I didn't feel the need to get too explicit here, simple and sweet seemed just right.** The calm before the storm.


	4. Just Between Us

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Even though he knew, that everything was platonic between them now, it hadn't always been that way. He understood and accepted their embrace, that didn't mean he could watch it.
> 
> Fighting to keep his tears at bay, he walked into Ancano's waiting arms. Ancano just held him. Knowing they weren't alone, he would keep it brief, for Ondolemar's sake.

*********

Athell stood in front of the fire, preparing to put the kettle on. Loud knocking at the door, startled him to the point that he dropped it. Water sloshed out all over the floor, instantly the kettle was forgotten, he felt sick.

The first thing, that went through his head! 'Oh Au-riel... he's found me!'

He was afraid to answer it, his heart going a mile a minute. He stood, ringing his hands in front of the fireplace. His bulging eyes locked onto the door, a terrified look on his face. Ondolemar calmly, walked past him from the bedroom, heading to the door. Athell held his breath, preparing for the worst...

He opened the door. Ancano stood waiting, holding a travel bag in his hands. They nodded to each other in greeting, and he invited him in. Athell let out a breath of relief, picking up the kettle, he set it over the fire. His hands were shaking so bad he almost dropped it again, now he wanted wine instead of the tea.

Ancano dropped the bag onto a chair. Inside it, next to his own clothing and robes, lay an extra set. An extra small set. Even though the note delivered had been exceedingly discreet, he knew who the extra robes were for. He turned, looking at Athell. Ondolemar walked over to the bar, he would pour their wine while they greeted each other.

Even though he knew that everything was platonic between them now, it hadn't always been that way. He understood and accepted their embrace, that didn't mean he could watch it.

Fighting to keep his tears at bay, he walked into Ancano's waiting arms. Ancano just held him. Knowing they weren't alone, he would keep it brief, for Ondolemar's sake.

He'd been waiting for some kind of signal from Ondolemar for quite some time now. They'd both been somewhat preparing for this, he just couldn't believe that it was actually upon them. Athell had gone through such a struggle after finishing his apprenticeship, having to go back. Something needed to be done, enough was enough! It was time...

He'd been sought out by Athell's father, because of his known prowess in magic. Having been hired to mentor him, when the Mer was but fifteen. With the family being who they were, it had allowed Ancano to remain at home, instead of being called to Skyrim earlier than they were. He welcomed it.

The amount Athell's father offered him was more than generous. He was decorated and trusted, sought after by many, for his talent in magic.

At first he was flattered, but when others heard who he would be teaching, the more he found out about the situation between the father and son. The more concerned he got. He decided he would wait to see for himself, once he was actually able to spend some time with the young Mer.

Athell had spent the majority of the two years of his training actually residing with him. Needless to say, they'd become close.

Athell's father was well known for his temper, and for his domineering ways over his family. Being able to reside with him, had allowed Athell the much needed respite he'd needed from the prison like existence he'd lived thus far. The hold his father had on him was horrible. When he first arrived, he'd been extremely withdrawn.

As soon as he was out of his home environment, Ancano swore he could actually see a transformation taking place. Within days, he'd completely come out of his shell. He swore he was seeing the real Athell, the one no one else had probably ever seen, other than his mother. She visited occasionally while he trained, their closeness obvious. He could also see that she had been the one thing, keeping the Mer sane.

Thank the Gods his father visited rarely. When he did, Ancano could see a visible change come over Athell so great, it was frightening. He'd felt the need to protect him right then.

Over the two years he was with him, Ancano watched him blossom. Not only as a young Mer, but in his magical abilities as well. But it was only a few weeks into his training, that their relationship drastically changed.

Neither had planned it, it simply happened.

There was so much more to Athell than anyone ever saw, that his father would never know of because of his blindness and shallow way of thinking. Maturity beyond his age, depth of character, a brilliant mind and such a loving heart. A heart that so desperately needed love. A heart that Ancano feared, would someday die under his father's choke hold.

Ancano's estate, was set into a cliff side, overlooking the ocean. His upper balcony off the master suite, overlooking falls that ran into his garden. So many nights they had spent in that room, listening to the water falling from the cliffs... locked in each other's embrace.

At first, he'd felt somewhat uncomfortable about their age difference, but he'd eventually let it go. Athell felt the same as he did and the young Mer seemed to have no concern over their ages. What mattered to them both, was how they felt... the relationship they were building. Both knowing it wouldn't be permanent, neither wanting it to be permanent. But a friendship, a bond, that would last both of their lifetimes.

Being a mentor to him in every way, Ancano had vowed not to take his virginity. That would be for his first real partner, not for him. He'd been Athell's first kiss, his first everything... but that. He'd even allowed Athell to take him, something that only his first had done. He'd never allowed anyone since, until Athell.

Ancano even introduced him to smoking. Did his father know any of this? Of course not. Athell needed to be able to experience things... to live. Ancano knew what he'd be going back to, if he'd had more say in things, more power over the situation. He would've kept him away, he would've never gone back. Everyone around him could see how suffocating his father was.

He would eventually stamp out any hope, dreams or potential the young Mer had. He wanted complete control of his entire life.

Sending him back had been one of the hardest things Ancano had ever done... no choice. After that, they'd met regularly, telling his father it was to keep him up on his training. They would spend the day riding, or just lazing about on his property. They not only missed each other's company, but Ancano knew he needed the time away. He was afraid for him. Knowing the lake house was his only escape, he'd supply him with smoke to keep stashed there. The _only place_ , he'd never spent any time with him.

Ondolemar was like a brother to him, almost twenty years his junior, but still the closest Mer to him other than Athell. As soon as their relationship had started, Ondolemar had come to him. He'd known of their intimacy, while Athell had been under his authority. Ancano told him everything... always. Even knowing they were only friends at the time, Ondolemar had still felt the need to seek his approval, get his opinion. 

Ancano had wholeheartedly agreed, they were the perfect match. Athell, it seemed, had a penchant for older males... security.

Being with an older male made him feel safe. There was nothing wrong with that, Ancano had been flattered that Athell wanted him. Not that he had a problem finding partners... but Athell was beautiful, young, and he was royalty. He could've had any Mer he wanted. He knew Ondolemar felt the same, the doubt he'd had when Athell first approached him. The bit of resistance he'd had in their relationship becoming intimate so soon. 

It had been the same way with them... but Athell was nothing if not persistent. When he really wanted something, he went for the throat.

When Ondolemar had told him of his intentions and shown him the rings he'd made them, he'd been ecstatic. Completely giving his blessing, he helped Ondolemar enchant them with a double enchantment. Giving the wearer of each, added health and aid in restoration. 

They would definitely need it now. He had known that something like this would happen sooner or later. Athell's father had been furious when he'd found out his son was with a male. Ondolemars family line, nor the fact that he was a highly decorated commander made a difference. He felt the need to run every facet of his son's life, no matter who Athell would have chosen... they would never be good enough.

The problem was getting away from him, from his family and their power. They both loved Athell, enough to risk everything to get him away and attempt to some how, give him the life he deserved. A life free from the tyranny of his family. The problem was, there was no safe place here, not on any of the Isles.

No one could escape the power the Aldmeri family held. Just for aiding in his leaving, Ancano and Ondolemar would face imprisonment or execution. If they weren't killed and were ever released, they'd never be allowed to see him again.

He'd be forced into an arranged marriage, and they both feared he would kill himself before that happened. His mother and the both of them were all that he had.

...Releasing his best friends fiancé, he walked over to help carry the wine to where they would sit. They had a lot to go over and only until the next morning to get it right. All of their lives would depend on it.


	5. No Safe Place

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> His eyes shifting between them now, noting the sick look on Ondolemar's face. "As soon as word reaches the embassy, Elenwen will have your own guards watching you. Every letter, note, package you send to anyone, will be inspected."
> 
> The more Ondolemar thought about it, the more grim the whole situation seemed.

***********

All three of them sat, facing each other. Athell's sweating hand gripping Ondolemar's, while Ancano talked over how things would need to be done... and the risks.

"First off," looking directly at Ond. "You won't be able to be on the same ship, you will have to travel separately." The color was literally draining from Athell's face more and more with each word he said. 

Ancano's amber eyes, fell upon him. "As soon as he finds that you are missing, he will have soldiers searching the docks and the ships. Now, I am hoping, that we will have set sail before it gets to that point."

Athell hoped his mother could hold his father off that long, make some excuses... something.

His eyes shifting between them now, noting the sick look on Ondolemar's face. "As soon as word reaches the Embassy, Elenwen will have your own guards watching you. Every letter, note, package you send to anyone, will be inspected. Along with any that you receive." 

The more Ondolemar thought about it, the more grim the whole situation seemed. 

Athell's face was pinching up, he was going to cry. "Perhaps... perhaps, I should just stay." Releasing the hand he held, he stood up, quickly turning his back. His shoulders shaking as he wept, his hands moving up to cover his face, his quivering voice muffled. "Gods damn this wretched family! My father..."

Ondolemar stood and pulled him into his arms, wrapping around him. Looking at Ancano, "How will he survive? If I can't send him funds, at least to get him by. His mother was going to aid in sending him what he needed, but... he will be watching her as well, won't he." Ancano just nodded his head. 

"You also have to take into consideration, that you will be questioned as to his whereabouts. Even if he is not seen with you, you will be suspect... we both could be. You, because of your known relationship with him and me, because of my professional past with him. No one other than you knows of our intimacy, but still... I've been close to him for several years now."

Athell broke away, wiping his arm across his face. Shaking his head, looking down. "Then... there is no other choice. I will have to stay."

Ondolemar's hands came up in protest, "No! you cannot!" 

"There is no other way! I cannot live! Knowing that you will be interrogated, just for knowing me! I couldn't take it Ond, I could not live, knowing you would be hurt!" Grabbing the goblet, he drained it. "Either of you, I couldn't stand it if either of you were hurt."

"I will have to marry her..." his chest labored under each breath. Just the thought of that... especially now that Ondolemar had proposed, a glimpse of freedom. All of it, just made him want to die.

Ondolemar broke, grabbing onto his shoulders, his voice cracking. "No... please, I... I can't lose you Athell." 

Tears flowing down his face. "Please... I love you." This couldn't be happening, it just couldn't be! A whole year together, all their struggles, he'd made them rings... he'd proposed.

Athell's breath hitching in his chest now, his whole face red from tears. "He told me, Ond... he told me he would do all in his power, to make sure we never saw each other again."

Taking Athell's face in his hands, resting their foreheads together... their hair falling into each other's faces. He whispered to him. "I can't lose you... " 

Ancano watched helpless, as they held each other, weeping. The complete injustice and cruelty of the situation, becoming unbearable. 

Cutting in, trying to ease the worry for all of them. "They won't go so far as to interrogate, Athell... neither of us would be hurt. But we will definitely be questioned."

He knew that their years of service and rank would be taken into consideration, they also knew Elenwen personally. While they didn't necessarily agree to her methods, she respected both of them. Ondolemar would be observed... closely, other than that, he didn't see anything too severe happening.

"If Ondolemar sails alone, and all the other Thalmor on the ship see that he's alone... Any questioning he has to go through, would be less severe. The guard at the docks, would testify that he walked on alone as well." 

He paced as he talked, an old habit. "You have many friends Ondolemar, and you've had a lot of support for your relationship with Athell. I sincerely believe that you'll get that support when this situation blows up."

He turned to look at them, a stern look on his face. "And believe me when I say, that it will blow up!"

Releasing Athell's face, he dried his tears. Keeping an arm around him, listening to Ancano as he worked it out. Anything was better than this...

"I have an idea." A glint showing in his amber eyes... an epiphany.

"Let's sit, have some wine. I think this may work."

Both taking deep breaths, they sat. Still holding hands, grasping their wine in the other. "Now, this will still be a little risky. At this point, any option will hold some risk. But, I think this is the least likely one to implicate you, Ondolemar. And the only way we can insure Athell's safety."

Ancano got back up, walking over to the bar to fetch another bottle. "While I was packing, after I got your note." He looked at Ondolemar, "I decided to pack Athell's mage robes, just on a whim... "

"For some reason, I felt it was important to have them. I didn't know why at the time. Now, I do." 

Holding his wine, pacing again. "Now, no one has ever seen these robes, but myself and Athell, of course. They were made special by me, they hold special enchantments. After our time together was over, I felt the need to keep them... sentimental reasons." 

Fingering the goatee he'd grown, while he thought. They'd all been given permission to grow facial hair, simply because of the harsh conditions they would be forced to endure. Of course, strict rules would be enforced on it being neatly kempt.

Ondolemar knew the sentiment he referred to, he kept still about it. Athell's face lit up, squeezing Ond's hand. Maybe there was hope after all. 

"Instead of wearing the Thalmor robes I had originally intended for him to wear, he will wear his mage robes." 

Turning to Athell, "Your hair will be dyed and cut." 

Ondolemar stood up, "Cut!"

Ancano knew how much his hair meant to Ond, after all, he'd taken his own fair share of pleasure in it. He also knew how much it meant to his family, his father and mother. Athell was a beauty.

"For Au-riel's sake Ondolemar! What is more important... Us all getting through this? Alive, so we can be together, or his hair. He can grow it back!" Athell seemed almost excited now, Ancano could see it on him. The chance to be someone else, incognito.

The only thing that worried him was the tattoo. That could give him away. 

"Us... You... you, plan to leave the Thalmor, you would do that for us?" He new Ancano would've rather retired than go to Skyrim, had he a choice. But, whether he helped them or not, once the shit hit the fan, he wouldn't be safe here. They knew how close the three of them were. Them doing this and all being together, that meant leaving the Thalmor for good. That meant leaving their homeland for good. Forever. Once this was done, there was no going back.

Putting a hand on Ondolemar's shoulder, "Of course, I'm in this with you. You two are the only family I have left." 

Turning away, looking out the window at the ocean. "What would there be to come back to?"

Letting out a deep sigh, there would be much he would miss. Leaving his families estate... Once he was branded a traitor, everything he owned would become property of the Dominion. Everything! 

Knowing this was inevitable, he'd taken pains over the last year, hiding things with sympathizers. Those that he knew would send his things to him, once it was safe. Under his advisement, Ondolemar had done the same thing. This definitely wasn't how he'd seen his career coming to a close, he wasn't alone though. Many of their people were preparing for the worst, many had left... many more were leaving each day... at least, they were trying to.

He turned toward them, leaning his backside against the windowsill. "Besides, I fully intend on being there to stand up at your wedding." 

He gave Athell a wink, then smiling at Ondolemar. There was some hope. But it was coming at a very dangerous price.

Reaching over, giving Athell a quick kiss. He knew Ancano would pull through for them, he always did. "Athell will be sailing with me, he'll be going to the college." 

Ondolemar's brow furrowed, "Why with you? I mean, I understand the college, but... " 

Ancano cut him off, "He's going on board under an invisibility spell, then he will be in hiding for the remainder of the journey. I don't trust the two of you together! You won't be able to stay away from each other long enough!"

He could tell by the look on Ondolemar's face, he knew he was right. Taking a deep breath he continud on. "Look, you need to remain as far away from each other as possible."

Looking back out the window, "I won't have guards at the college, no one knows him there. He won't be recognized." Funds also wouldn't be a problem there. 

Turning back to them, "He'll stay at the Inn for a night, join the next day. That way no one will suspect we know each other. We won't be walking in together. I'll pay his tuition, I can hand him the coin and he can turn it in." 

Ond's mouth fell open, his hands were clenched up, resting on his hips. He finally turned toward the fire, he knew Ancano was helping him, he needed to calm down. He just felt so helpless. 

Ancano knew the college would never allow a search to be performed either, he'd received word they were upset enough just with him arriving. 

"I'm not going to hear a word about the coin either, so you may as well save your breath Ondolemar!" He could practically hear Ondolemar's eyes rolling.

Afraid his expression would betray him, he stared into the fireplace. As a complete mix of emotions coursed through him.

"Are we in agreement then?" Not waiting for them to give a sign, he walked to Ondolemar and pulled him into the bedroom. It was time for a chat. 

Ondolemar's eyes were cast everywhere, but at him. Standing directly in front of him, "Please tell me this isn't a trust issue... please tell me that you trust me." 

Ondolemar's face twisted, looking at him now. "Of course not! You know I trust you. It upsets me that I cannot provide for him! It upsets me that... that, I'm jealous."

Ancano sat down on the bed, watching him pace. "I understand that, were I in your shoes, I'd feel the same. I'll be with him and you won't. But he'll be safe, Ond. I'll do everything I can, to keep him safe for you."


	6. Too Easy?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> With her clinging to the door, watching him. He had finally turned to her, putting his face down into hers, his eyes narrowed.
> 
> His voice was low and even, "You cannot protect him forever! I will get into that room Irinde... I rule this family! I rule this household... not you! If he doesn't go through with this wedding, I will have the Thalmor put to death! You know I will!"
> 
> He backed away from her, cocking his head to yell so Athell could hear. "Did you hear that! You will do as I say! or that asshole you're fucking will die!"

************

Ondolemar watched, while Ancano cut Athell's hair, there was no way he could do it. While it had been to the middle of his back, it was now just long enough to pull back into a tie. Hanging just between his shoulder blades and long enough to hide that wretched tattoo. Done on a whim, mostly to piss off his father. Now, he wished he'd never gotten it.

Ancano mixed different berries and herbs, to make a hair dye. Deep red. It would only last so long and would fade with each washing. Pretty much just to get him by in case their little plan, of getting him on the ship unnoticed didn't work. Then, he would reapply as often as needed once they got to the college. If the Thalmor did gain entry, and performed a search, he wouldn't fit the description.

He could tell Ondolemar was pained, just the way he looked at him. He'd wanted to keep the cut tresses, but Ancano didn't advise it. No evidence. They were thrown into the fire.

Knowing they needed some time together, he'd taken a walk down to the ocean. Removing his boots, he wanted to feel the warm, soft sand under his feet. One last time.

Ond stood in front of him, Athell sat on a stool, letting him apply faint eye paint. They needed to alter his appearance, best they could. Ancano had dyed his eyebrows as well, so it would look as natural as possible. He looked so different from before. From the finest bloodline, he was so fair. White blonde hair, fine, sharp features... beautiful light golden skin. The most brilliant green eyes... 

Completely silent as he worked, he knew they were both hurting, afraid. The pain in his chest was becoming unbearable. He felt like his heart was being ripped in two, pulled out... crushed. He had prayed and prayed to Au-riel... there was no relief, this was killing him.

Looking at Athell, so young, so vulnerable. He couldn't help feeling, if he had never met him... but, it would've been some other Thalmor or male that he'd have fallen for. This would've ended up happening, no matter who he had chosen. 

If he hadn't come into the picture, he really felt, it would've been his best friend. With their already, close relationship, he could tell Ancano still cared for him a great deal. He may not betray their friendship, but he knew he was still attracted to him. He loved him enough to do this. If anything happened to him, he would want them to be together. He just wanted Athell safe. In the end, that's all that really mattered. Not who he was with. 

"You know, Ond... I'm still me." 

Athell's voice, snapped him out of his painfest, he looked at him. His voice was wrecked, "Do you think that's what... " No longer able to keep his tears at bay, spilling over his eyes, flowing down his face. He dropped the brush and grabbed Athell's face, holding them together. He had tried to be so strong, he knew Athell didn't need to see him fall apart. 

"I don't care what you look like..." Sucking in air, while he sobbed, trying to talk. Their foreheads and noses pressed together, "I just want you... you." 

He could feel Athell's tears mixing with his. He was going to have to reapply the make up. It didn't matter. Kissing Athell's mouth, he couldn't really hug him until his hair dried, lest his own be marked with the same color of dye.

Breaking apart, drying their tears as Ancano walked back in. Both of them red and bleary eyed.

He finished the make up, then they sat and drank together. The three of them, watching the fire and listening to the surf. Each one lost in thought. Even though they'd be in the same bed, that last night. Nothing would happen. Not just with the fact, that Ancano would be on the couch in the next room. But, they were both too melancholy. To just be able to hold him, be with him, was all he could ask for.

***********

At first light, Ondolemar had left. While Athell lay sleeping, he knelt over him, kissed his forehead and walked out. There was no more he needed to say to Ancano, they had said their goodbyes the night before. He had to look strong and he had to be focused. A long teary goodbye would do no one any good. Ancano's ship didn't depart until after noon. Trunks of Ondolemar's and Ancano's belongings had already been taken aboard several days before. The Dominion planned for soldiers and officers to be at least a year or longer, depending on their positions and responsibilities... maybe longer, before a rotation. They had permission to bring any items necessary for the long stay. 

Ancano would take Athell's travel bag as well. There wasn't anything in there that could identify him. Other than his circlet. That would be left at the lake house. He'd gone over it so many times in his head, there was no other way, but to dress him in the robes and cast an invisibility and muffle spell and sneak him aboard. Being a decorated officer/wizard, he would have his own small quarters to himself on the ship. He would hide him in there and bring him in, anything he might need.

At first he'd thought that he could just say, he was a new apprentice. Problem was, no one else knew about it. Usually, among the social circles, something like that, with him being so well known. Someone else would've known about it, heard about it. When the search started for him, they would be looked at first. Him showing up at the docks with a young, slim, unknown mage would be remembered. 

Also, with so many seeking to leave their homeland, the Dominion had gotten strict about travel papers. They were now enforcing new laws that required anyone leaving, to go through certain procedures. One had to actually request to leave, and if the Dominion didn't think the trip was necessary or they had any suspicion, they didn't go. Travel was especially strict regarding anyone wanting to go to Skyrim. 

Putting the note Ondolemar had written him, into his pocket. Him under the guise of a muffle and invisibility spell, they climbed onto the carriage and rode to the docks. Casting again, before getting out and walking on board. Much to his disbelief, it actually, went off without a hitch. They both had looked for any sign that a search was being conducted, there was nothing... yet.

*********

They had fought for two days. Irinde practically camping out at her son's door. The night of the party had been horrible, he'd barely been able to control himself while their guests were there. Her making all the excuses, the young lady he was to wed had been crushed. 

Irinde couldn't believe the girl, had such an absence of insight. Athell had always been stiff and tense around her, polite and well mannered, but anyone who knew him could see it was an act. He never smiled, he would look away, so he could roll his eyes or try to hide his looks of disgust. Anytime she would try to touch him, he would jerk away. Taking more than necessary personal breaks, to use the bathroom... anything to escape her. He couldn't stand her. It was the fact that she was being forced on him. He had female friends, but they were friends. They understood him, she was nothing like the friends he had. She was nice, but Irinde didn't really want her in their family, not at this cost.

They hadn't stayed long, as soon as they'd left she rushed to his room, barely beating her husband there. She'd actually thrown her body in front of the door, to keep him from kicking it in! Screaming at the top of his lungs at her, "I want his ass out here, now!" Cocking his head to yell at the door, "Do you hear me Athell! I know you can hear me! This isn't over!" 

He'd stopped yelling and was now pacing in front of her. His long white hair flying out behind him, as he quickened his pace. Back and forth. Grinding his fingers into his temples in attempt to control his rage. He had never raised a hand to her, not yet. She feared this would push him to the boundary. And she was prepared, she would take whatever was necessary to protect her son. Then, she would leave him. She was of royal blood as well, he didn't dare use his family's power to hurt her, lest everyone would know. He would face horrible scorn socially, just for her leaving him. It was unheard of... But she would do it.

With her clinging to the door, watching him. He had finally turned to her, putting his face down into hers, his green eyes narrowed. His voice was low and even, "You cannot protect him forever! I will get into that room Irinde... I rule this family! I rule this household... not you! If he doesn't go through with this wedding, I will have the Thalmor put to death! You know I will!"

He backed away from her, cocking his head to yell, so Athell could hear. "Did you hear that! You will do as I say! Or that asshole you're fucking will die!"

Looking back to her, "You are no longer welcome in our suite!" 

Raising her head defiantly, "That is fine with me!" 

He turned and walked briskly, down the hallway. Going into their room, he grabbed his jacket and left. Climbing into their carriage, he was so angry his ears rang. She had always defended him! It was going to stop! 

He couldn't see the draw... the interest. Sure, he knew others that preferred males to females. Most of them still married and had children. They just sought private satisfaction in secret, they at least made attempts to look appropriate, to all who observed them.

One time, in his youth, he'd let a male go down on him... He'd been at a party, they'd been drinking and smoking. He'd gone into a room to relieve himself and one of his friends had entered, while he was going. He'd closed the door and come up from behind him.

While he was pissing, holding himself, his friend had put his arms through his. Pushing the front of his body into Heceril's back, wrapping his arms around his stomach. He'd been a little startled, but was able to finish going. Thinking he was just drunk and was playing around, he didn't worry over it. When he was done, and attempted to put his cock back in his pants, his friend grabbed his hands stopping him. Being high, a little intoxicated... and curious. He allowed the male to do what he wanted. 

Sex had been a normal thing at many of their parties, males and females alike. They were rich, spoiled and had access to whatever they wanted. But a lot of the parties he'd attended were male only, just him and groups of his friends. Numerous times, he'd watched as others made out. 

The friend behind him, released his hold and turned him so they were facing each other. He'd gotten onto his knees, in front of Heceril and proceeded to suck him off. He enjoyed it, but after it was over, that was it. They remained friends, but nothing ever happened again. He preferred females. 

He loved his wife, he thought she was beautiful... he enjoyed having sex with her. But, he would not be controlled! 

No, he didn't have absolute power, but his father, who was still alive did! Of course, socially, there were steps that had to be taken, precautions... He knew who Ondolemar was, what family line he hailed from. He knew his service record. His father may not agree to putting him to death, but they could make things very uncomfortable for him. And, he would make sure, he would never see his son again!

She listened as he left the house, climbing into the carriage. As soon as she could no longer hear the horses hooves, grabbing the bell pull in the hall outside of his room. She would need assistance from their servants. She trusted them, they would be going with her when she left. He could get his own.

Strands of her long, white blonde hair, had fallen out of the bun she'd had it in. Her brow wrinkled in stress. She refused to cry, she knew Athell was safe... especially, while he thought he was in there. The longer the better. By the time he found out otherwise, Athell would be on the ocean and she would be packed!

Three Altmer and one Bosmer female, came down the hall and stopped before her. "You will help me pack all of Athell's things, just the personal ones. Then, we will pack all of mine, I only want to keep what I will need here for a few days." 

They looked at her, fear in their faces. This was serious, this sort of thing never happened... they knew this. 

"Then, pack all of yours. I want all of the chests shipped by carriage to my families estate. Master Heceril, is NOT to know about this! Am I clear! You will be coming with me, I will talk with Nariba before bed. She will be coming as well."

Turning to the door, they walked in and hurried to gather his things. They had been her servants from the beginning, coming into the marriage with her and they would be leaving it with her. 

She knew where he went, he would go vent to his friends. Other members of their government, that he could trust to keep their familie's turmoil secret and not critique him on it. They would drink, smoke and he would come back late and pass out. 

That was fine, their spineless excuse for a carriage driver would be out with him. She would hail her own and the chests would be on their way before he ever got back.

As soon as they were done, she lowered the steel door bar into place and crept out the window, onto the ledge. She'd scaled it before to protect him, she would do it again... one last time. Coming back into the house, she ran to the door, put in her key and locked it. Then, snapped the end off inside the lock.

The servants were busy packing her items, she didn't care about the furnishings, he could have it. Her family had a lavish estate miles from here, Athell's lake house would be safe and it would remain private. In case he ever returned... she didn't think he would.

As soon as she got word that he was safe and had settled, she would send the remainder of his things to him. Along with more funds.


	7. Fear Of The Inevitable

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ancano looked at the wall opposite them, he knew his words were true. That's what worried him, they had wine, one small bed... and each other. He knew what would happen.

***********

She had moved into the servants quarters, located just off his room. Allowing her to keep watch of his door, which had just infuriated Heceril even more. Periodically, he would stalk by the door, glaring at her, hollering through the door, in attempt to further intimidate Athell. He'd pounded on it several times, cursing. 

Once, he'd even gotten into her face, questioning her. "How is the little brat getting food, Irinde! I know he's not starving! Maybe I should bring those wretched servants of yours up here! See what they know!" 

"They're not involved Heceril!" She took a step closer to him, raising her chin. "If you could only see, what you are making yourself look like, by doing this!" Putting her hands to her hips, "If all you care about are appearances, you'd better think about that!" 

He glared at her, holding up an accusatory finger toward his son's door. "This family will Not be disgraced! I will NOT allow it, Irinde! That does matter to me!"

She put her back against the door, looking down at the floor. A sad, but determined look on her face. "We are no longer a family... a family doesn't do this to each other."

A disgusted look came over his face, he let out a huff of air and turned away. 

He was beyond really caring about their family at this point, about the pain he was inflicting. Now, she was actually hoping to be out of the house, when he found out Athell wasn't in there. Then... then, she wouldn't want to be anywhere near him. He was going to go berserk. 

She had received word back, that all their chests had made it to her families estate. She couldn't tell him that she was leaving, he would try to stop her. He would do anything to avoid social disgrace or scorn. Her leaving him... she knew it wouldn't be good. But, she couldn't bear to be around him any longer. They had been through so many fights over Athell, even before this. 

Heceril just wasn't happy with Athell, no matter what he did. The night he'd found out about he and Ondolemar, she had literally feared for her son's safety. Her husband hadn't been the same since. It was almost as if, all of his disapproval and dissatisfaction was culminating around that one thing.

The way he had treated their son, it was deplorable. In her eyes, that wasn't love... If he was so driven by his goals, that he would put his own flesh and blood through that kind of torment, he wasn't the Mer she married. He'd turned into something else. 

There was no sense in arguing over it anymore, they had completely worn it out. It wouldn't do any good, he was dead set, against Athell's choice of lifestyle and nothing would ever change how he felt.

Looking at the sun coming in, through the window. There were two ships leaving the docks today, one at dawn, that had already departed and the other should be boarding right about now. If she could just hold out until tomorrow morning. By the time she allowed him entry, or he decided to get physical with her, Athell would be out to sea. 

He wouldn't even know for sure, where he'd gone. Sure, he could check on Ondolemar's whereabouts. He would find, that he'd shipped out. He'd check the logs at the docks and find out that Athell hadn't been seen. She knew Ondolemar would take precautions, she also knew that he'd probably involved Ancano. Even better...

She knew about he and Ancano, Athell had confided in her. He always did. She had been surprised, he hadn't stayed with him, he absolutely worshipped Ancano. He could've extended his mage training... his father respected Ancano. He would've never known about their relationship. But, that was between them, they had evidently had their reasons. She knew they were still extremely close. With that Mer involved, she knew he would be safe.

Ancano and Athell's partner were like brothers. They both loved her son and they both, would do anything to keep him safe, just like her. 

She also knew, while a search was being conducted here in the Isles, Heceril would send word to that bitch at the Embassy. She hated Elenwen. A fine example, of everything they were doing wrong! 

The search would be on... All she could do is wait and pray. Just one more day.

***********

As soon as they got into their quarters, he took a deep breath and let the spell dissipate. Ancano had already told him, they would have to speak in low tones, lest anyone suspect something. Ancano set down their bags. There would be no reason to unpack, nothing to put anything in. They would be living out of their bags during the entire journey.

Athell pulled off his hood, outer robes and his boots. He stuffed them into his bag, they couldn't afford to have anyone see suspicious clothing laying about. He sat down on the bed. The only bed... a single bed. 

He looked up, as Ancano picked up the bottle of wine, that had been left for him. "I'm afraid we'll have to share a goblet, only one." He held it up. 

Athell bounced playfully, grinning up at his mentor. "That's not all we're sharing." 

He just shook his head, trying to remain serious. "I see that, you'd better enjoy it Athell. The accommodations in Skyrim will be... shall I say, less than what you are used to." 

He was fighting against the smile forming on his lips. Athell had always made him happy, which was not an easy feat. Anyone that knew him well, knew that he was a serious Mer. He had always been so. But Athell... he brought something out in him, he couldn't put a name to it, he couldn't explain it. He just made him happy. 

Studying Athell, he could see it in his face, there was a war going on within him. He was so excited to be away from his home, his family. Even with the fact that this whole venture, was steeped in so much danger and possible loss, he was excited. It was an adventure. He'd rather have him excited, than lost to fear and worry. He would do anything to keep his mind at rest. They had two weeks together, nothing by wine and time.

Changing from his robes, into more comfortable clothing. He lay his robes over the only chair in the room, then filling the goblet, sat down on the bed next to him. Putting one leg up onto the bed, bent at the knee, he turned to face the young Mer.

Athell pulled the tie out of his hair, "Will you have to go to the galley, to get our food?"

Ancano took a drink, handing it to him. "No, one of the soldiers will bring it for me." He smiled coyly, "One of the perks of my high rank." Another thing he would take advantage of while he could. Once they got off this ship, they might as well be in another world. A hostile one, at that.

Ancano moved up to the head of the bed, leaning against the wall, his legs stretched out. Athell looked around the small room, there was nothing to do, nothing at all.. For two weeks. Except dwell on what was happening. He took another drink and moved to sit between Ancano's legs, leaning his back against the larger Mer. Taking the goblet from him, he allowed him to settle in. 

He snuggled into Ancano, wrapping an arm around one of the knees to his side. He looked up at his chin, "I'm going to go crazy, if all I can do is think about this situation. My mother... Ondolemar..." He let out a deep breath and looked forward again. "My asshole father..."

Lowering one leg, he balanced the goblet on his thigh. "Athell, fretting over this will only make it worse. There is absolutely nothing we can do about it. Your mother is a very wise Mer, she did the right thing. She will be alright, things may be difficult for all of us for awhile." 

He turned his head and looked down at the young Mer, that was snuggled into him. "It will get better, happiness is worth the fight."

Athell just nodded his head, he knew he was right. Taking a deep breath, he took the goblet and drained it. Ancano reached down, picking the bottle up off the floor, he filled it again. 

He stroked his hair, "We have wine and each other, enough to get us through the journey and through this." 

Athell smiled, handing him the goblet. Just hearing his voice, calmed him. As soon as he'd met him, the sound of his voice, had pulled him in. He loved it.

Ancano looked at the wall opposite them, he knew his words were true. That's what worried him, they had wine, one small bed... and each other. 

He knew what would happen.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm figuring it would take at least two weeks of travel by ship to reach the Solitude docks. As I don't plan on waiting that long, I will be speeding that up a little bit.


	8. Betrayal {Part One}

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Attempting to keep his voice low, "You will learn to eat what is available Athell! You no longer have the luxury of your homeland!" Athell's face instantly went into a pout, he crossed his arms and turned on the bed so he didn't have to face him.
> 
> Ancano moved in closer, reaching out, he grabbed his jaw, turning his head back to face him. Leaning down into Athell's face, he continued... 
> 
> "And I'll not stand by and see you deteriorate, simply due to your stubbornness. I promised Ondolemar that I would take care of you... if that requires me force feeding you, I will do it! And then, I will beat your little ass till it's red, simply for forcing me to do the task!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Two weeks, Ancano, small bed and wine... Hmmm... All I can say is, thank the Gods for magical healing spells. And while we're at it, lets add a heaping pile of guilt, to this already fucked up situation... shall we. ;p

**********

Night had fallen, lanterns had been lit above and below decks. Ancano had cast another invisibility spell, while they had gotten their dinner. 

Sitting on the bed, with the plate between them, Athell picked at the food. Mostly consisting of bread, cheeses, fruit and dried meats. Picking up a piece of dried meat, he looked at it in disdain, wrinkling his face. Ancano just continued to eat, observing him.

"You need to eat Athell, keep up your strength... the food will be better at the college."

Of course that was true, the food would be better at the college. But Athell had been spoiled, the fact was... they all had. While they would have fresh meat, it definitely wouldn't be the cuisine they were used to.

Any decent household in the Isles, employed a Khajiit as a cook. Usually they employed two, one to garden and one to cook. More often than not, the pair consisted of a husband and wife. If that were the case, many times, they would live in a separate residence with their own family, right on the property of their employer.

They were well known for their fine culinary skills, some of the best food he'd ever tasted, had been made by Khajiiti hands. They would call it Elven cuisine, but in reality, since the time their people had been involved with the cats, their two cuisines had blended. Much of it deriving from Elsweyr. That was something he would definitely miss. He had also heard that the cook at the Embassy, was Elenwen's own personal cook. She'd actually brought her own servants with her... 

He watched, as the young Mer put the dried beef between his teeth and pulled. Attempting to rip a piece off. He started to laughed, Athell laid it back onto the plate. "That is disgusting..." He huffed, looking away.

Ancano pushed some cheese and apple across the plate to him. "Eat that then."

He pushed the plate away, keeping his head turned. "I'm not hungry!" 

It wasn't like Athell, to give him attitude. In fact, even when he was just fifteen, he'd never really acted juvenile. He would chalk it up to stress, but he also wanted it resolved. He'd never been one to be tolerant of such behavior, he wasn't about to start now. Taking the plate and setting it aside, he poured some wine and sat back down on the bed. He took a sip and offered the goblet to Athell.

Again, he shook his head, refusing the offered wine. Ancano's eyes narrowed, an eyebrow arched. He set the wine and the plate on the desk and turned, facing him. Attempting to keep his voice low, "You will learn to eat what is available Athell! You no longer have the luxury of your homeland!" Athell's face instantly went into a pout, he crossed his arms and turned on the bed, so he didn't have to face him. 

Ancano moved in closer, reaching out, he grabbed his jaw, turning his head back to face him. Leaning down into Athell's face, he continued... 

"And I'll not stand by and see you deteriorate, simply due to your stubbornness. I promised Ondolemar that I would take care of you... if that requires me force feeding you, I will do it! And then, I will beat your little ass till it's red, simply for forcing me to do the task!" Athell's eyes grew bigger, eye brows pushed together, his mouth opened under the hold Ancano still had on him. 

He jerked out of his grasp, glaring at him. Trying keep his voice to a whisper. "You wouldn't dare! You wouldn't dare, touch me in such a manner!" 

Ancano's hands fisted at his sides, by Au-riel! He was going to teach him a lesson. It was obvious, he'd forgotten who he was dealing with! 

Ancano lunged at him. Grabbing him roughly by the shoulders, he forced the struggling Mer over his legs. Pinning him down with one arm, using the other hand, getting a handful of his breeches, he ripped them down. Exposing his bare ass. Athell's legs kicked out, he pushed at Ancano's legs, trying to loosen his grip. He knew better than to make too much noise, he couldn't give them away. 

He was appalled, furious! He did the only thing he could to do, he grabbed a bit of Ancano's thigh between his teeth and bit down. Mistake... Ancano swung his hand downward, hitting Athell's bare ass with a loud crack! Instantly, his whole body stiffened, hissing between his teeth as he sucked in air. He clutched at Ancano's legs. 

His face was flushed red, he practically spit out the words. "You know who I am, how dare you... how dare you!"

Sweat beading on his forehead from all the exertion, he held him there. He wasn't done yet. He bent down to him, whispering roughly. "Who you are, makes no difference now! You didn't want that... Remember! You are no different then anyone else now, Athell!"

The young Mer's head dropped, his body shaking against Ancano's legs as he let out a quiet sob. Tears fell to the wooden floor. Looking down at the Mer's bare bottom, an angry looking red welted hand print, covered one entire cheek. He let out a sigh, talking smoothly. "Calm down Athell and let me heal you."

Softly gliding his hand over the reddened skin, light flowed from his hand, glowing around his bottom. Just forcing him over his lap, had gotten him hard, then actually spanking him... He was straining so badly against his breech, he would have to adjust himself... and soon. He was hoping Athell couldn't feel it, but, the way he was pinned to his lap... He either did and was keeping quiet, or it didn't matter. He was beginning to think both.

Athell was quiet, breathing softly, no longer trying to struggle, or even move. Knowing he'd pay for it later, he just couldn't resist. Having him bare, across his legs... it was too much. 

No longer needing to heal, he softly ran his hand over Athell's smooth skin. Back and forth, very slowly, he caressed his bottom. And very slowly, Athell started to respond. His breathing deepened, arching his back, pushing his ass into Ancano's hand. 

Gliding his hand over him, he dipped his long fingers between Athell's cheeks. Skimming over that tight little ring of muscle. Athell's breathing picked up, arching his back further, he was rocking his hips. He knew what he wanted... Holding onto Ancano's legs, he spread his legs and pushed his ass up.

Just watching him, was enough to get him off. Ancano lifted his hand to his lips, sucking two fingers into his mouth, getting them slick and wet. He moved his hand back down and rubbed the wet fingers over his hole, preparing him. Taking his middle finger, he pushed at his entrance and dipped in, just up to the first knuckle.

Athell was literally panting. Ancano held the finger there, letting Athell squirm against him. Holding him in place, he intended on keeping every ounce of power he could. He wanted to see him struggle, wanted to see him arch onto his hand, trying to push himself farther onto his finger. 

Watching Athell's face, he could tell he was getting frustrated. He needed to move things along, or else he wouldn't last once they got down to real business. Very slowly, he pushed his finger all the way in. The look on Athell's face was absolutely divine. His eyes closed, mouth open, his hands squeezing the legs underneath him. He pumped the finger in and out, watching the young Mer's face, he wanted him to ask for it. 

He'd been aching to get inside of him, the one thing he'd never done. He'd given that to Ondolemar, now... Athell would give it to him. 

A very quiet, "Please..." escaped Athell's mouth.

Pulling the finger out, Ancano took him by the shoulders and righted him, setting him on the bed. His face was flushed, his eyelids half closed, Athell raised his hands to Ancano's face, pulling him into a kiss. Ancano closed his eyes as slim fingers wound into his hair. Athell devouring his mouth, crashing into his lips with his teeth, biting at him like he was starved. Attempting to unlace his breeches and tunic, while not breaking contact. Athell was up on his knees now, breeches down, pushing into him, trying to get closer.

Out of breath, Ancano spoke against his mouth, "Lay down... face down." 

Athell opened his eyes, looking directly into the beautiful, warm amber eyes of his mentor. He pulled away and stood, letting his bottoms hit the floor, he kicked them away. Pulling off his tunic, he flung it aside and lay down, face first. The whole time he'd been with Ancano, he'd wanted him to be his first. He had practically begged for it, but Ancano would never give in.

It had been maddening, they would do everything but this. Ancano would have his tongue and fingers buried inside him, making him lose control until he wanted to scream. But he would never give in and just fuck him. He had been so hung up on their age difference, he didn't want to take that one thing from him. Athell didn't care, he just wanted him... he had wanted him so badly. His first love.

Ancano stood, watching him as removed his own clothing. He thought he'd never be given a chance to see him again, not like this. Somewhere far back in his mind, he couldn't believe he was doing this. He couldn't think about that right now, he had to take this opportunity, while it was available. Once they were all back together, he wouldn't ever be able to have this again.

If he thought about that now... he pushed it back. And took in the bare beauty before him... this young Mer that he loved and longed for so much.

Getting a bottle of oil from his bag, he straddled Athell's thighs, keeping his legs closed. His voice raspy with need, "Give me the pillow..."

Athell raised enough to move the pillow from beneath him, he handed it to Ancano. Knowing what his plan was, he raised his hips from the bed, so Ancano could place it beneath him. His ass, lifted higher, thus giving Ancano a better angle and more depth. He wiggled his ass expectantly. His mentor growled lowly, "Impatient are we..."

He whined, "Yes... I want you!"

Just briefly, he lowered down and kissed the cheek he had slapped. He uncorked the bottle and drizzled the oil over his already weeping cock, rubbing it in. He set the bottle on the floor and putting a hand to each of Athell's cheeks, he spread them, lining the head of his cock up with his entrance. Rubbing lightly against him, "Then you shall have me..." 

He pushed, opening him up, until just the head was inside. 'Oh Gods... he was so fucking tight.' 

Athell's face was buried in the mattress, his hands clutching the top edge. He knew he wasn't in pain though, he was still pushing his ass up into him. Ancano was actually straining to make him stay still. Taking deep breaths, he pushed the rest of his cock in and held it there. Athell was gasping against the mattress, his golden back glistened with sweat. His slender hips raised, that tight little ass stretched around his golden cock. Ancano closed his eyes against the sight, just for a moment.

He had to pull it together, control... control... 

He opened his eyes, taking a deep breath, he grabbed an ass cheek in each hand and squeezed them together around his aching cock. He pulled out, just keeping the head in and pushed back in, shoving Athell forward. Athell arched his back, bringing his chest off the bed, up onto his elbows. His head flung back, crimson hair flying as Ancano slammed into him, his mouth open in a silent scream.

Moving his hands to the young Mer's hips, he grabbed on, their skin slapping together with each downward thrust. His white hair sticking to his face and neck, he was covered in sweat. Athell's head now facing the mattress, he was trying so hard to be quiet... trying so fucking hard. He felt so good. "Gods yesss... fuck meee... fuck me."

He pushed himself up, onto his knees, leaning his back into Ancano's chest. He grabbed his mentor's ass holding him inside him, he was so fucking deep. He couldn't seem to get deep enough... Gods, he just wanted to stay inside him forever. Turning their faces to each other, their mouths connecting, tongues meeting. Ancano wrapped his hand around Athell's cock, working him, pulling from his balls up to the head, squeezing. Rubbing his thumb over his slit, working the fluid coming out of him all around his swollen head. He was close, they both were. 

Athell bent forward, pushing his ass farther into him, that was all it took. Ancano stilled, gasping loudly, the hand around Athell's cock squeezing. While Ancano was locked up, pulsing inside of him, he moved his hand away and leaned back into him again, pulling himself to climax.

Cumming into his hand, his ass clenching up around his mentors cock, they held each other there, waiting for one another to come down. 


	9. Betrayal {Part Two}

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He chuckled, pinching the bridge of his nose with his fingers, fighting his anger. "Perhaps you didn't hear my question... I shall repeat myself..." Bringing his hands down, he literally screamed in her face! "WHERE IS HE!!!"

*************

Slowly, they pulled apart and lay down. Athell, wrapping around him, snuggling in. He had missed this so much... they both had. For two whole years, he'd had him all to himself. Then, having to let him go back to that tyrant...

He listened to Athell's slow breathing, running his hand softly over his back. If only he hadn't been such a coward... and that's what he'd been. He had used their ages as an excuse, to not make it permanent, when in reality... He was terrified, of not only how he made him feel, but also of the ramifications he knew would happen, the effect it would have on both their lives.

He was afraid of losing him completely.

So, he'd backed away, allowing him to be sent back. He knew, if he had told his father he needed more time with him... he would've extended it. His feelings for the young Mer... he knew, the more time they spent together, the harder it would be to part.

Then only to lose him to his best friend. He had been crushed inside, completely filled with jealousy when Ondolemar came to him. He loved Ondolemar, he did... He would give his life for him. And, he hadn't lied, when he told him they made a perfect pair. They did.

There wasn't a day that went by, that he didn't regret letting Athell go. He should've fought for him, when he had the chance. But every time he thought about that... he felt guilty. If he had, then Ondolemar wouldn't be in Athell's life.

And Athell seemed so happy as well, he knew he truly loved Ond. All of it had been so bittersweet, he suffered in silence, attempting to be strong for both of them. He was the one that made the mistake, now... he would stand aside and let Ondolemar have what they both wanted. Ond deserved Athell, he'd fought for him.

He knew, he was being so incredibly selfish. Having Athell travel with him, coming to the college... all the wisest choices, given the circumstances. But this... this had been wrong. Again, he showed his weakness.

Athell's body jerked against him, warm tears fell onto his chest, where Athell's head lay. He looked down at the young Mer, he was looking at his wedding ring, crying, as he slowly turned it on his finger.

The reality of what they'd done, hitting him full force. His chest clenched up, he held onto Athell tighter, his own eyes welling up. Concentrating to keep his voice straight, "Athell... I'm so sorry... I..."

Athell, shook his head against his chest. Tears still falling, his nose runny, voice cracking. "I'm not..."

He let out a quiet sob, his body shaking against him. Talking through it, "What does that make me, Ancano?"

Propping himself up on an elbow, so he could look at him. His face twisted up in agony, "I love him so much!... So what does that make me?"

Athell's forehead dropped onto his chest, his body wracked from his sobs, his hands clutching onto him. "I would never hurt him, I couldn't... how can I love you both like this?"

His own tears fell now, he let out a deep breath. "I love you too Athell... I love both of you. So, what does that make me..."

Athell calmed a little, his chest hitching against him. "Why did you make me leave... Why... I loved you so much." His words were pleading, Ancano felt as if his heart was being ripped out.

Ancano let out a sob, holding onto him tightly. "Because I was afraid... I was afraid." His body shaking, holding onto him as if he were a lifeline.

"Afraid of everything you made me feel... after so long of feeling nothing! It terrified me! It still does..." Athell laid there, silent. Listening as Ancano poured his heart out.

"Even more so now, because now... now, my best and most dearest friend, is at risk."

He looked at the ceiling, his face locked in a grimace of pain, tears rolling into his hair and onto the pillow. "I must do what is right... for the both of you. And I don't know if I'm strong enough..."

***********

With the dawn, came soldiers.

The ruckus outside waking her, she ran to the window and watched as a military wagon was led through the main gates. Her heart pounding in her chest, she yanked on the bell pull. Three times, they all knew to head outside, down the back entrance. She needed to get out, they all did. He was done waiting.

Still in her night dress, she hurried down the back staircase. She could hear the soldiers boots, as they marched into the house. He was yelling out his commands.

Oh Au-riel... they had a battering ram.

Getting into the outer alcove, looking at the entrance to their property. There were too many soldiers, they would never get out unnoticed. She huddled against her servants, remaining quiet, she could see the fear in their eyes. She would stand in front of them when the time came... she would fight! None would be taken.

***********

His eyes alight with purpose, ears and cheeks flushed red from his rage, he shouted out his commands. He led them to Athell's door and stood back, while six Elven soldiers moved into place with the ram. The Captain, yelling out his order to swing. Heceril shielding his face with an arm, the beams in the hallway vibrating, paintings hitting the floor, glass shattering. The Captain yelling out, "ONCE MORE!"

They backed up and then rammed it forward. He could hear the steel door bar fly into the room, hitting something.

"ONCE MORE!!"

The thick wood gave way with an earsplitting crack, splinters and shards flying... they were through. The soldiers backed away, setting down the ram and let him enter. He didn't really want Athell hurt, he just wanted him out! Enough of the fucking games!

He looked around... at nothing. Every drawer... every wardrobe... stood open... empty! Gone! He's gone! 'I've waited for three days... and he's not even here!'

Bringing his hands up to his head, he looked around... turning in a circle, his eyes wide in disbelief! His body literally shook, he'd been made a fool of...

She would pay! Her and his son! His hands going down to his sides, into claws, blue lightning flowing from them. Looking skyward, screaming out in all his rage! "IRINNDEEEE!!!"

The soldiers stood out in the hallway, completely silent, awaiting his command. He called them in. "Do a search for my son, I want four of you to search the house."

Looking at the Captain, split up your team outside, half is to search the premise for Athell. The other half is to guard the entrance and any other exits!"

Looking at two others, his eyes narrowed, his mouth twisting up into a vicious smile. "Find my wife!"

Nodding at his command, they split up. He walked into her dressing room. He couldn't believe it! His own wife, turned against him! He'd trusted her... so many years of marriage, now this. Franticly, he pulled open drawers... empty. Walking over to the wardrobe, he stood in front of it, hands on the knobs, knowing he'd find the same thing... nothing. He pulled it open. "MASTER HECERIL!... WE'VE FOUND HER!"

He ran out of her room, following a soldier, they ran down the back staircase. He'd forgotten all about this, it had been locked since the mansion had been built. It was only there in case of emergency exit during attack, which they hadn't ever had to worry over. 'How clever...'

Going out to a small alcove under the bridge that looked over the roadway running through their premise. He held up his arm, stopping the soldiers that followed. Still in her nighty, as were all of them. Hair down, flying in the wind. She was standing in front of her servants, her arms stretched out, shielding them.

He walked slowly toward her, looking down at her with disappointment on his face. "How could you do this to me, Irinde..."

He could see by the look on her face, it was over, she was resolute. He took a deep breath, pushing the pain of her betrayal back. He would replace it with his own...

The look of pain, was gone. He was now someone she feared.

"Where is he, Irinde." He stood waiting.

She shook her head, trying to be strong, her eyes betrayed her. Tears welling up, "I... I don't know." She backed up further, pushing the terrified Mer behind her, into the stone wall.

He chuckled, pinching the bridge of his nose with his fingers, fighting his anger. "Perhaps you didn't hear my question... I shall repeat myself..." Bringing his hands down, he literally screamed in her face! "WHERE IS HE!!!"

Pushing further back, she lowered her hands... lightning flowing from them. Her voice cracking, tears falling, her whole body trembled in fear. "I... I don't know, Heceril... I don't."

He looked at her, a disgusted sneer on his face. "You are prepared to fight me!"

Bringing up one hand, he motioned the soldiers closer. Turning his head just enough to talk, but not breaking eye contact with her. "I want a battalion sent to her families estate..."

He watched as her eyes grew, her mouth dropped open. The lightning was no longer coming from her hands, she sobbed out. "Heceril... please... my family..." The Mer behind her were now weeping, holding onto each other.

Holding up his hand again, stopping the soldier. He stepped up to her and leaned down into her face, talking low. "And he is _MY_ family, Irinde! _MY SON!_ Now.. you can stop all of this, right now. Simply by telling me _where_ he is... and _who_ he is with!"

As if he didn't already know... she was his fucking sympathizer! He knew Ondolemar was involved.

She shook her head, looking down. "I already told you, I don't know..."

He backed away, looking at her in distaste. "Fine! Remember, Irinde... I gave you a choice!"

He looked at the soldier, "Arrest her!... and them."

She collapsed to her knees, her hands flew up to her face, weeping as the soldier moved in to pull her to her feet. "They are all to be placed under house arrest, take them all to her families estate, no one is to be harmed. Especially her! I want a battalion stationed there! Nothing leaves or enters without inspection!"

He walked beside her, the soldier walking on the other side, holding her arm. She looked down at the floor, tears streaming down her face. Talking low, "I don't know what made you think, you would get away with this... I really don't."

She knew to keep quiet...

As soon as he found the empty drawers, he knew that's where she'd have had all their things sent to... they were all traitors. He would take their private carriage, he watched as she and her servants climbed into the military wagon, a soldier between each of them. She'd left him no choice. "I will be by later, Irinde... I intend to have a chat, with you and your family!"

He turned away, he had much to do and he had to do it quickly. The Captain stood beside him, "Shall we search the Isle Sir?"

"Yes, for right now..."

He climbed into his carriage, he needed to see his father.


	10. Athelleen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> His father absolutely adored his grandchildren. They were cherished, by both, he and his mother. They loved Irinde as well... at least he knew his mother did. But, when it came to his grandchildren... he would do whatever was necessary to keep them safe. They were his blood, Irinde was not. And Heceril knew, his father had no problem separating the two. If that's what it came down to. And, that's what it was going to come down to.
> 
> He'd seen his father torture someone, only once... it was something he would never forget.

☆☆☆☆☆☆

Olquaril watched, silently... as his son paced back and forth in his office. He'd been at it for an hour, pouring his heart out over the betrayal he'd been dealing with at the hands of his wife. His runaway son... their families heir and his grandson. The fact that he preferred males. The Thalmor officer, that he was involved with... 

The more he heard... the more livid he became. He could feel the heat, rising in his ears. Not at just the fact, that Heceril hadn't come to him sooner, but over the fact that his grandson, was now missing. He wanted to believe that this was just some simple rebellion on their heir's part, a phase that he was going through... something that would pass. But deep in his gut, he feared it was much worse than that.

He snapped his fingers, his Altmer servant was immediately at his side. "Pour us some wine. Then leave us." 

As soon as the door closed. "Sit, Heceril... "

Heceril walked over to the chair, opposite his father and sat down. His white hair, was pulled pristinely back, into a tie. The green of his silk shirt, accentuating that of his eyes. He'd aged... the lines becoming more and more apparent in his golden skin. He could also see, the anger and concern that now dominated his father's expression.

Part of him was elated... the more angry his father was, the more backing he would get. As if he ever had a doubt, that his father wouldn't take immediate action. It was the berating that he would face first, that he feared. He knew, his father despised nothing more, than the loss of control. He didn't want that anger pointed at him... any of it. He hated making him angry, hence the reason why he'd kept their family's issues to himself. Now, he wasn't so sure, he had been right in what he'd done.

Swallowing, he picked up the goblet and took a drink, waiting for his father to begin. 

Olquaril looked at the goblet, wanting a drink, but the rage, that had now settled in his stomach wouldn't allow it. "So, what you are telling me, is that my grandson... my Athelleen is gone." 

His voice, rising with each word, "And you have no idea, where he is..." 

He was on his feet, his hands on his desk... leaning toward Heceril. His eyes were narrowed, his face and ears red in his rage. His voice, so loud it hurt Heceril's ears... reverberating through the room. "For how many days! Three days! Because you were incapable, of pushing past your wife! To enter a room, in your own home!" 

His fist slammed down on the desk, making Heceril jump. Instantly, he felt like a child again. He nervously licked his lips, clutching onto the goblet. 

His father straightened, collecting himself. Raising his hands to smooth his hair back. He knew he was no where near done... 

Olquaril's lips pressed into a thin line, he took a deep breath. Grabbing the bell pull that hung from the ceiling, he yanked. The door opened, his servant stepped in, waiting for him to speak. He literally glared at his son... a disgusted look on his face. Looking up at his servant, "I want all the guard stationed at the docks yesterday, brought here! And I want them here now!" 

His servant nodded and left. Looking down at him, "After we are done, questioning the guard... we will have a visit with your treacherous wife and her family! She knows Heceril! My Athelleen, would have never done this without some prodding. And I expect YOU to be strong... I will not be shamed by weakness! Do you understand Heceril... " He nodded, he knew what was coming... it wasn't going to be pleasant.

His father absolutely adored his grandchildren. They were cherished, by both, he and his mother. They loved Irinde as well... at least he knew his mother did. But, when it came to his grandchildren... he would do whatever was necessary to keep them safe. They were his blood, Irinde was not. And Heceril knew, his father had no problem at all, separating the two... if that's what it came down to. And, that's what it was going to come down to.

He'd seen his father torture someone, only once... it was something, he would never forget. 

He sat down, a disappointed look on his face. "How can I trust, that you will be able to take my place when I am gone..." He raised his arms to gesture at their surroundings. "To be able to handle all that will be placed in your hands... if you cannot even handle, your own family!"

He raised his hand, pinching the bridge of his nose. The telltale sign of him trying to reign it in... just like himself, he'd seen his father do this so often. Not a good thing. He blew out a breath and grabbed his goblet, taking a long drink. Heceril wanted to plead his case, but he knew, that wouldn't hold water with his father. 

His mother and father had a good marriage, but, he ruled his house... not his wife. When he spoke, everyone listened... everyone. He knew, he wouldn't get an ounce of sympathy from him. This would have never happened to his father. Now, all he felt, was shame.

"I had my concerns when you allowed Athelleen to stay with his mentor, for such a long period of time." Heceril's eyes got wide, he watched as his father looked up at the ceiling. It was almost like he was deep in thought.

"What... why didn't you tell me? You.. you were close with Ancano... he's taught so many royals... I.. I thought he would be the best choice."

Anger now coiling in his own gut... he didn't even want to think, what he was thinking. He couldn't... his son had only been fifteen... he'd paid him... for two years... He couldn't even breathe. Gods! Was that the turning point in all this? Is that what made the massive change, take place in his son?

He just shook his head, as if dismissing his own thoughts. "It's only a suspicion.. nothing concrete. And he was the best choice! There was no one finer to teach him... " He blew out a deep breath. 

"What aren't you telling me! What do you know about him!" He couldn't sit still, bolting forward in his seat, he set the goblet on his father's desk.

Olquaril just looked at him, "Please tell me, that you aren't this naïve! Do you think, that Athelleen is the only one that prefers the feel of a male! Ancano... as long as I've known him, has never been with a female!...ever."

Immediately, Heceril was on his feet. He paced behind his chair, his hands clutching his head... he couldn't believe what he was hearing.

"That doesn't mean that anything happened between them Heceril... Ancano is trustworthy." With that, he was starting to feel a glimmer of hope... relief. But as his father continued, that glimmer faded. "But Athelleen is attractive... I could see someone falling to weakness, if that were their preference."

He whirled on his father, staring at him in disbelief... watching him, as one of his long fingers tapped against his chin, as he mulled it over. As if it were nothing. "I just... I would find it hard to believe that he would allow himself, knowing who he was training... who was in his charge. Still, we have no proof."

His arms spread out, his eyes and mouth taking up his face, "How... how can you speak of this... as if it's nothing!" His voice raising! "Athell was only fifteen! FIFTEEN! I paid him! For two years!" 

He watched the color rising in his son's face, "This is nothing new, Heceril! It has been going on, since our races have been on Nirn! By many, it is considered a delicacy! A treat if you will. Some just find the treats, more to their liking than maybe they should."

Heceril thought he would be ill. Just hearing his father speak about it, everything in him wanted to cover his ears. He knew he didn't dare, lest he be slapped.

He watched his son pace, "As I said... we have no proof. But I do know they were close Heceril... close enough, that I don't think Ondolemar is the only one involved in this, or knows what is happening."

Blowing out a breath in frustration. "And now, they are both on the ocean!" 

Just the thought! That two of his trusted... two of his elite! That they would turn against him... against his son! Their family... their own people! When he found out, who was responsible, for planting this seed in his beloved grandson's mind, they would suffer! They would pay! 

He downed his wine and stood, crossing his arms. Looking at him matter of factly. "I don't care who Athelleen beds! I only care that he weds and bears us an heir! Let them have separate homes if need be... but we need an heir!"

He turned, looking out the massive window, down into the city. "I think we both know, that Athelleen will never be the one to lead, once you are gone... but his heir could. I want him back! I want him safe!" 

He turned to face him, "We must secure our bloodline! Where is Elanin?" 


	11. Two Birds One Stone

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The wizard bent down in front of his cell, his elbows resting on his knees, hands clasped under his pointed chin. He was looking at him through the bars. Just looking at him...
> 
> His hood covering most of his face, keeping him in shadow. He could still see those green eyes though... glowing in the darkness, just like a cats. The asshole was smiling! He was fuckin smiling!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't intend to give warnings before chapters except in extreme cases. All the warnings were up front.
> 
> Also, please... simply because I write about or from a specific view point, does not necessarily mean that is my personal view. Just so you know.

***********

It took two of them to carry him back.

He couldn't believe he was even still alive. Just from the look of him, right about now death would've probably been a blessing from the Gods.

Over and over, he'd screamed. It had gone on for so long, all the other prisoners had been weeping and praying, scared to death. Completely sick at having to listen to their kinsman... their comrade, go through that kind of agony. Scared, because when they were done with him, who would they come for next? 

And then it got quiet. At first he thought him dead or passed out. But he was still alive and awake when they'd brought him back! Evidently he'd screamed himself hoarse.

For a man of his size to scream that way, he couldn't imagine what they'd done to him. All he could see was blood... he was covered in blood. Almost unrecognizable. 

'Gods! they had to be stopped! Somebody _had_ to stop them!' The Empire was useless! The Thalmor's puppet! their tool, their fuckin ass kisser! 'Allowin them free reign into our land... allowin them to rob us of our rights!'

They had their own fuckin fort! Just walked right in and set up shop, right across from that cursed castle. They were all the way at the ass end of nowhere. Hell, no one would even come way out here! 

Everyone had their suspicions about that damned castle across the way. Rumors had started spreadin from town to town, at least they were before he got snatched. Strange things bein seen out here at night... and now, people been seein bloodsuckers here and there. Gods... what was next! 

All tried to steer clear of it as much as possible. He didn't even want to think about what was goin on over there! Too bad whatever was hauntin that place, didn't come over here and give these bastards some grief! 

If only the Imperial supporters could see what was happenin here. What their whipped Empire was allowin these gold-skinned assholes, to do to their people! They'd be backin Ulfric in a heartbeat. He was sure of it. 

He also knew, they'd be around in awhile, to heal his neighbor and give him food. They wanted him to be strong, see... so they could go another round tomorrow. But first, they'd let him lay in his blood for awhile and suffer.

He huddled in the corner of his own cell. Everything in him, wanted to bury himself in the straw around him. Would do no good... they knew he was in there. And he knew, there was no way, they would forget about him. 

His hands clasped together, in front of his face... knees up to his chest. Watching, as they threw the white haired Nord, into the cell next to him, slamming the door shut.

The wizard bent down in front of his cell, his elbows resting on his knees, hands clasped under his pointed chin. He was looking at him through the bars. Just looking at him... His hood, covering most of his face... keeping him in shadow. He could still see those green eyes though... glowing in the darkness, just like a cats. The asshole was smiling! He was fuckin smiling!

He could feel the sweat running down his face, he held his breath, his chest clenching up, feeling like he would cry. He wouldn't do it! Not after Thorald had just suffered what he had! He had never cried! There was no shame in screamin! Not when someone was carvin on you... burnin you alive! But by Talos, he wouldn't cry!

Finally, he stood looking down at him. His haughty voice, cold and unfeeling. "I remember you... fighting beside your precious Ulfric. I had fun with him as well... so much fun. After all, Elenwen did have to take breaks once in awhile and I needed the practice. Now you get to see just how much I've learned. I'm curious to see if you can hold out as long as he did, before he broke." 

He started to turn, then stopped, smiling at him, showing teeth. "I'll see you tomorrow DOG! Pleasant dreams..." 

Great! He was remembered.

He turned and walked away. Banging on the bars of the women's cells as he passed by, some of them stayed silent, some cried out in fear. He laughed... laughed! The same fuckin laugh he'd heard while Thorald had been screamin! They enjoyed this... enjoyed it! It was play time, and no one would do anything about it.

He swallowed, pressing his hands up against his mouth, clenching his eyes shut. That wasn't the only thing he was clenching up. He felt like his ass end was going to let loose. That was the last thing he needed! Sittin in his own mess till he died. He sure wasn't about to get anything clean here, it wasn't a fuckin' Inn. No one would be leavin' here alive.

He could hear Thorald, his breathing was raspy. They were evidently done for the night, he could hear them preparing food for the evening meals. He knew they had some time before he was healed. The Elves ate first, then the leftovers were split amongst the prisoners. Then they would heal him, if he didn't die first.

There had been more food over the last few days, he wasn't sure if that was a good thing or not. Losing his kinsman, or them bein alive and tortured.

They would drag the dead past the cells of those that still remained, just to freak everyone out. Then they'd throw them all in a hand cart by the door. They'd sit there, all of them piled atop each other, until the next day when they'd take em all out and burn em. 

Today they'd gotten three new ones in. They'd be makin a show of it now. They'd want them good and scared, while they waited for their turn. 

One out of the bunch, not even one of Ulfric's, a bandit, had caved before he'd even been touched! On his hands and knees beggin, saying he'd do anything... anything! Right in front of everyone's cells, cryin like a damned baby! Renounced Talos, renounced Ulfric... everything. The whole time he was cursin his own blood, the three Thalmor that stood over him were lookin in on the others, smiling.

Agnin was sure that asshole'd be someone's bitch tonight. He'd be gettin stuffed, probably be renouncin Talos the whole time one them pointy eared pricks was balls deep in his fuckin ass!

Real quiet, he scooted himself over to the stone wall. There was a hole, he'd kept it covered with straw so they couldn't see. He brushed it away, constantly looking to make sure they weren't being watched. 

They barely spoke to each other, the Elves had hearing as good as a bats! It was them damned ears. He swore they could hear you thinkin sometimes. They had to take care, lest they be caught... then there'd be hell to pay.

Lowering himself down onto the stone floor, he looked through. Thorald was leaning against the wall... his eyes puffed shut, his whole face bore small cuts and bruises. The blood was starting to dry on his skin. Agnin slid his arm through the hole, reaching his hand out to him. After a just a moment, he felt Thorald take hold of it. His grasp was so weak. 

Casting a healing hands spell, he looked out his cell door, making sure no one was around to see the glowing light. He wasn't the greatest at it, but after Ulfric had been captured, he'd made a real effort to learn what he thought may help those he fought with. 

After just a couple of minutes, Thorald let loose, pushing his hand away whispering, "Not too much... they'll know." 

Hopefully it was enough to make him feel a little better at least. That's all he could do. Gods! 

Sliding his hand back out, he sat up next to the hole. He'd be there for any comfort that it gave. Laying his head against the cold stone, a low whisper came to him. "You fought with the Jarl... along side of him?"

Letting out a soft breath, "Aye... I did."

That was all that was said. He didn't want to be looked at like a hero, like he was anything special. Him and Ulfric had been friends since they were boys. And since they were boys, Ulfric and his family had been pullin his ass out of trouble. He'd never had much of any family. His Pa had left when he was just a babe, never came back. He didn't even remember him. Then, right after Ulfric went to stay with the Greybeards, his ma got sick and died. 

Without Ulfric there, he'd gotten lost... he was just fuckin lost. 

The war started and Ulfric came and saved his neck. Just bein who he was, saved him from the block. He was grateful, but he could tell Ulfric was tired of bailin him out. He'd followed him into the War, fought along side of him and he hadn't been able to keep him from getting captured. He'd fought beside him to regain Markarth. And now, he fought _for_ him. And he'd been captured, trying to secure enemy documents. Four of Ulfric's men had died because of him and the documents lost.

This time, he'd get what he had comin. He owed him more than his body could pay... he owed him everything.

************

They'd come after awhile and slid food under the bars for them, healing Thorald further. While he knew the man felt better, it didn't give him any peace. He'd have to endure it all again. Finally, after awhile... exhausted from fear and stress, everyone fell into a troubled sleep. 

He woke to fighting. He could hear the crack of lightning and bright, blinding blue light streaming through the darkened stone hallways. Everyone was pressed up against their cell doors, listening as the sound of thunder shook the building and dust flew! He was here. 

Now, he just may cry. Or maybe not.

What seemed like an hour, actually only took sheer minutes. Knowing him, he'd snuck in and killed most of their numbers whilst they were unaware. They must have just heard the last few fall. He watched as the massive, red haired Nord walked up to their cells. Their eyes met, just briefly... he didn't say a word.

He'd grown up with Saetad too, all three of them together... close. He knew just how much he owed Ulfric. 

Watching as the Dragonborn unlocked the other cells first, everyone waited in a group while he finished. Finally, he stopped before Agnin's. Just looking at him, standing there in red and black leather. His red hair tied back into a single braid, beard in a knot, almost as red as the leather he wore. Wicked looking Daedric bow, slung onto his back... Agnin knew the armor he wore. 

He also knew that Saetad had lost any respect he may have had for him long, long ago. If he ever had any.

He opened the door, blue eyes looking down at him. His face full of disgust. "I wasn't called here to save you either, just so you know!"

He walked over to Thorald's cell and unlocked it, looking back at him. "So, you got lucky."

Turning his gaze to Thorald, "Your brother and some of the others you know from Whiterun are outside waiting for you. You'll all be coming back to Windhelm with me." 

Thorald walked by, glancing at him... nodding. He returned it. He could tell they were both thankful for the friendship they'd forged while imprisoned here. Hopefully it would last, if he didn't fuck something else up.

Everyone walked outside, leaving them... giving them a moment. He wouldn't humiliate him in front of the others, he was thankful for that at least. 

He glared down at him, getting right up, chest to chest. "Saving your ass is getting to be a full fucking time job, Agnin!" All he could do was look down at his feet, into the grooves of the stone floor. 

He'd backed off a touch, but kept going... there wasn't going to be a break. He didn't deserve one... he knew. 

"You're welcome to come back with us. That is if you've got the stones to face Ulfric. He thinks you dead! Dead along side the men you let down! He probably won't be too happy that you're still around to draw breath! So, if I were you... I'd be finding a way to pay him back Agnin! _Before_ you return!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, changing things up some. The fact that my dragonborn is a known childhood friend, will be explained as well. Really, that's the only difference as far as he's concerned. {So, no one knew that he was the Dovah until the shit hit the fan, just the fact that he's not a complete stranger.}


	12. What Have You Done?? {Part One}

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He stood there speechless... The other Elders would hear about this! Olquaril didn't have absolute power... as much as he wanted to believe he did. Things were going to change! There was a reason, they had a council... so this exact type of thing wouldn't take place!  
> He turned, taking Irinde and his wife inside. Her servants, following along behind them.

*********

The last thing her parents expected to see, was a military wagon being pulled onto their property. Afraid to come out and actually see what was taking place, but afraid not to as well. They had received her trunks... they knew what that meant. As soon as those had arrived, they knew the fight would be on. This kind of thing didn't happen. In any family! But, for it to happen in that family... 

They feared for their daughter. And that alone made them angry!

They also knew who it was over. It was over Athell.

As soon as the wagon doors were opened, her mother ran out of their home... crying. To see their daughter, being led out by soldiers... in her night dress. Followed, by her servants, all of them, in their night attire. Her stomach dropped, she pushed past the soldiers, pulling her daughter into her arms.

Her husband was at her side, his face a complete mix of disbelief and rage. 

He couldn't believe that Heceril would have the audacity, to go to such lengths! For their daughter, to be treated like a common criminal! He, himself, was an Elder... their son, was in the upper echelon of the Thalmor. They were nobility, their family, hailing from an old bloodline of wealth and power. Olquaril had to have, completely lost his mind! Both of them had!

This wouldn't be the first time, there had been an internal struggle... Olquaril's family were direct descendants of the Aldmeri bloodline. From this, he tended to have the other Elder's backing... much to the chagrin of some of the lower council members. Of course, none would ever voice this, without the utmost caution, as to who was near. As far as he knew... Olquaril, had never gone this far, either. Not directly against another Elder.

Turning to the leader of their number... the color in his face, turning red from anger. "I'll have an explanation!" One fist clenched, the other pointed at his daughter. "I want an explanation for this!"

"You are all to remain here, sir..." The soldier faltered. Taking a deep breath, "I am simply following orders, Master IImion..." He bowed.

He crossed his arms, looking down his nose at the soldier. "While I understand your position... I will not be held prisoner, in my own home! I want a message taken to him..."

The soldier raised his hand, cutting IImion off, his mouth dropped, eyes widening. "I mean no disrespect, but, that won't be necessary. He intends to be here shortly, sir." 

He stood there, speechless... The other Elders would hear about this! Olquaril didn't have absolute power... as much as he wanted to believe he did. Things were going to change! There was a reason, they had a council... so this exact type of thing wouldn't take place! He turned, taking Irinde and his wife inside. Her servants, following along behind them.

***********

She had helped her daughter dress. Her servants were getting situated in their quarters. Nothing would be asked of them, she could tell, they'd all been through enough already. And what was coming... she didn't want to think about it. But that's all that filled her mind. She, for one, was terrified. She couldn't stand her daughter's father-in-law. He was a tyrant.

When she'd first gotten involved with Heceril, they'd been pleased. He did hail from one of the oldest and most respected bloodlines... after all. For their daughter to be chosen, for Olquaril's son... it was an honor. And he'd always been good to her, she had been so happy with him. 

Of course, being the wife of an Elder and their son being as high ranked as he was, she'd had the opportunity to spend time with Heceril's family. Socially... social gatherings and so on. But, she'd never really gotten to know them, until her daughter was married to their son. By then, it was too late. Anyone could see, Olquaril had complete control over his son... so whatever he wanted, Heceril did. Anything to gain his favor... 

Things seemed to be alright, between her and Heceril though, even after the children were born. Twins... a female and a male. A blessing from the Divines! Both, absolutely breathtaking in appearance. Hair, so light, it was like that of corn silk. The most fair, golden skin and beautiful, brilliant green eyes. A perfect show, of their pure lineage. 

Having more than one child wasn't very common. But, twins... such a rarity. It meant so much!

They had all been so proud... Especially Heceril and Olquaril. Heceril's father was pleased and he was proud and that was everything to him... everything! 

Almost immediately, Heceril became extremely possessive of his son... he loved his daughter, but with her being a girl, he left her to Irinde to mold. It seemed like Athell, was everything to him... his entire world. And, the older Athell got, the more things went downhill. There had been nothing but stress, surrounding the poor young Mer.. 

Over time, Athell, became more and more closed up. It was like, watching a flower... wilt and die. And it seemed to be apparent to all, but his father. And, his grandfather... As soon as he turned of age... nothing but battles. And, the older he got, the worse they became. 

They had all been amazed, that Heceril had allowed him to be away, long enough for his mage training. By that time, Athell was in such desperate need to get away, they had been thankful to see him go. He seemed to open up, grow and flourish, under Ancano's teachings. Which, was even more evident, when he returned home from being with him.

Much to everyone's shock, he'd become rebellious. Which had thrown Heceril into an absolute frenzy... it made things worse. First, it was the tattoo... their families old banner, just to irritate Heceril, of course. Then his ear pierced. It was almost like, he was rubbing something in his father's face. 

After that, it was nothing, to see Athell bearing bruises. And in places, where they could be seen. His neck, face and arms. She shuddered to think what might be on him, that couldn't be seen.

The worst fight, they'd ever known about... was when Heceril had found out about Ondolemar. He had been at a council meeting... one of Ondolemar's friends, another Thalmor officer, had actually congratulated him... What a fine partner, his son had chosen. He must be proud. After all, Ondolemar hailed from a pure, strong bloodline. He was highly decorated.

Heceril's face had dropped... his mouth had hung open, he'd said 'What!... What!... ' almost, like he was in a daze. Then, without uttering another word, he'd turned and left. Right then, the officer had gone to Ondolemar, apologizing... telling him of his grave error. He had thought, it was known...

Heceril, had gone into such a rage, he'd stormed into the house, throwing open the doors. And ran! literally ran, up to Athell's room. Irinde, had heard him screaming... screaming for help, for him to get away!

She had been frozen in the doorway, watching her husband... it felt like time itself, had stopped. The look on his face, how he acted... the things he said. He acted like Athell had betrayed him! Personally, betrayed him! 

He had backed Athell into one of the corners of his room, his clothes had been ripped away, they lay in shreds on the floor. He was in nothing but his breech... on his knees, facing Heceril. Tears streamed down his face, his whole body trembled in fear... her husbands hands were around his neck. Not choking him, just holding him there. And Athell's shaking hands were on his, trying to pry them loose.

She could tell, he'd slapped him, at least once or twice. His face bore a red handprint on the cheek she could see. She could also see numerous, dark purple love marks... peppering his entire torso and in between his legs. Heceril was weeping... looking at the marks on him and weeping. Saying over and over... 'How could you... how could you do this to me...' 

Finally, snapping out of it... she had walked in, as calmly as possible. Coming up to them, from the side. In the state her husband was in, she didn't want to come up to him from behind, lest he attack her. She had softly spoken to him, moving her hands to his, she gently removed them from around her son's throat. Heceril, didn't even look at her. He just stared at Athell... his mouth hanging open, in a zombie like state, his eyes were far away. He got up from his knees and backed away from them, sitting down on the bed. She knelt down to Athell and held him, watching as her husband buried his face in his hands... and cried.

She remembered looking up, seeing Elanin, Athell's twin sister, standing in the doorway, watching. Tears running down her face. Just the scene alone, was horrible... but, to see her father, weeping like that. Irinde had quietly, stood Athell up and gathering some clothing, she'd left the room. Pulling her daughter away. They left, taking a carriage, they'd gone to her family's estate, where they stayed for three days. She needed to give him time... time to deal with his anger and time for Athell, to heal. They all had needed the time.

Elanin, was completely distraught. She loved her father dearly, but, Athell was everything to her. They were inseparable. And, of course, it was right after that, that Heceril had demanded she be sent away during certain days of the week for schooling. When, before that, she had tutors coming to their estate. Irinde had fought him on it of course, and lost. It was as if, he wanted all of Athell's support taken away. And it was then, that he pushed for the marriage arrangement. 

Another big fight... Athell had actually stood up to him, argued with him... for the first time. Over the forcing of marriage. The fact that Athell was questionning his authority, only enraging him, even more. He'd gotten physically violent again, backing Athell against a wall, Irinde screaming and pulling at his back. He'd screamed in his face, 'I will decide who you are with Athell! I decide!' Irinde was positive, that he'd gone insane. 

It was then, that she had started allowing him, more time at the cabin. Athell had to have time away, away from his father and the prison, their home had become. Always when Heceril was away on council work, of course. Ondolemar didn't dare come to their home, lest someone let their mouth loose. Heceril had certain servants, their carriage driver, being one of them... that watched everyone's move and reported it to him.

Their marriage was destroyed... her main focus, now... was protecting her children. Protecting her son. 

No one could explain his obsession, no one could...

Today, with this... The real side of Heceril's father was now, becoming completely apparent... It was complete and utter darkness. And their daughter and grandchildren, were caught right in the middle of it... they all were. 

************

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's so much to this chapter... things that won't even be addressed, till later on. So... you can take what you will and run with it.


	13. What Have You Done?? {Part Two}

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Heceril glared at his wife. He was literally shaking... shaking. His eyes welled up, holding up both hands to her. Turning them, to display what he held.
> 
> His voice unsteady, his face pulled into a mix of pain and rage. "His hair..." tears flowed down his face... "his hair... they cut it..."

************

All the guard had been lined up in his father's outer room. They both, inspected the papers... nothing was out of place. A guard at the dock, and a guard on board at the entrance. All testified, Ondolemar and Ancano, both... had gotten on alone. Neither one, had anyone with them. And no one, fitting Athell's description, had been seen near the docks... at anytime, in the last several days.

They were dismissed.

It was almost like he had vanished into thin air. Heceril knew, that wasn't the case. She knew... that's why she had guarded Athell's door, she was giving him time to get away. He turned to his father, who stood... looking once more, out the window in his office. "She knows father... she has to. What about carriage drivers..." 

His father turned to him, "She would not have used our driver... she knows he would tell me. She would have hailed another... If we check with those on duty that night, those that ran in our area."

He knew, it had to be centered around when the ships left. Even if they weren't seen with him at the docks. He would have wanted to see... him. His chest clenched up, Gods... he couldn't even think it. It was killing him. Killing him! 

He grabbed his goblet, draining it. He looked up at his father... "He would have wanted to see him... before he left. Even if they weren't seen together. That is why his disappearance happened, at the same time as them shipping out. I am sure of it!" Gods! She was going to pay! He would do anything... anything, to get him back!

************

He walked into the cabin... his father behind him. 

It hadn't taken long, in fact, much faster than they had expected. They didn't even have to threaten... simply thrown a bag of gold in his lap. 

Of course, he hadn't broken any laws... none of them had. They had simply provided a service. They had done their jobs. Nothing more... nothing less.

The Altmer had picked up his son, on the road running in front of their estate, on the evening of the gathering. And... he had picked him up numerous times, over the last two years. There were two other drivers as well, that had transported him. In fact, they had picked up Ondolemar, taking him to the exact same local... not only on numerous occasions in the past, but two days prior to him shipping out. Ancano, had also been transported there... 

Olquaril stood by the door. And watched his son. He had never seen this side of him... it was like watching a transformation take place. One he liked...

His eyes were wide... his teeth clenched. He looked wild. Absolute rage, was taking him over, as he walked through each room... his hands clutching his head, he went into the bedroom. The bed was a mess. He grabbed the bed coverings and threw them back. Looking at the stains on the sheets... Olquaril stood at the bedroom door, watching... tears ran down his son's face, as he tore the bed apart. 

Suddenly, the sound of metal hitting the floor, stopped him. He looked around, trying to find the source. Only to look up to his father, handing him something. For a moment, he couldn't even speak... he just looked at it, blinking through his tears. It was Athell's circlet... 

He ran out, he couldn't be there... not in that room. Clutching the circlet in his fist, he looked down at the floor, the golden light of hair... catching his eye. He thought he would be sick, 'Oh Au-riel... his hair... his beautiful hair.' 

He knelt by the fire, collecting the strands, his tears falling onto the floor. With shaking hands, he coiled them up, tucking them away into his pocket.

"There is something over here you need to see, Heceril." 

He stood, his chest felt like a ton weighed on it. His throat tight... 'what now... how could it get any worse.'

He walked over to where his father stood. An alchemy table... Athell's horsehair brush, covered in red... next to a bowl, with the same coloring, now dried up. Brushes for face paint... His eyes looked up to meet his father's. "They cut his hair and then dyed it.. they made him up, Heceril. A disguise." It didn't make any sense... they weren't seen with anyone. They got on alone.

He grabbed up the brush, his face pinched up into a grimace of pure agony. 'How... how could he do this.. had he no love for him? None?'

They walked out of the cabin, his father stood at the doorway to their carriage, watching as Heceril brought flames up in his hands and set the cabin ablaze. It would all be destroyed. All of it!

Olquaril sat back in the carriage, next to his beloved son... smiling. He was ready to see his wife... this was going to be a pleasure.

*********

IImion watched the carriage pull onto their premise. Heceril and Olquaril, both stepped down to the stone drive. Heceril held something in each hand...

He turned to his daughter, she was seated next to his wife... their hands clutched together. They both looked ill from stress. She had refused to tell them what had happened... he knew it was in case of torture. The less they knew, the better. But, there would be no torture, the other Elders would make sure of that. 

His butler opened the door, letting them in.

IImion took in his son-in-law's appearance. His face was red and it was wet... he had been crying. The shirt he wore, stained with sweat... smelling of smoke. Strands of his white hair, flowed free of the tie that should have held it back. He was in quite a state of disarray. Tearing his eyes away for a moment, to look between them.

Heceril glared at his wife. He was literally shaking... shaking. His eyes welled up, holding up both hands to her. Turning them, to display what he held. His voice unsteady, his face pulled into a grimace of pain and rage. "His hair..." tears flowed down his face... "his hair... they cut it..."

He was screaming, his hands still holding the items of betrayal, he crouched... leaning toward her! Spit flew from his mouth! "THEY CUT HIS HAIR!!! THEY DYED IT... A... A.. DISGUISE!" Olquaril placed his hands on his son's shoulders, not really to calm him, but only to stay him for a moment.

His father's touch reigned him in. Heceril turned away from her... he couldn't look upon her. What he looked at... was his son's circlet. His fingers caressing the gold that had once graced his beloved boy, his beautiful son... his... 

His fist wrapped around it, his knuckles turning white from the strain. He wanted her dead! He wanted a hearing!!

IImion moved closer to his daughter and wife. He had never seen Heceril in such a state. He was afraid... afraid for them all. They hadn't been able to get word, to any of the other Elders... But, if she had broken any law... done something that she could be condemned for, they may be of no help. They may only make things worse. For all of this to be happening, whatever she had done... it was bad. He could feel it. His stomach in knots, he turned to Irinde, "What... Irinde, what has happened to Athell?"

She wouldn't look at him either. She just held her mother's hands... she knew what would happen. She would never give them up, she wouldn't betray her son. He needed to be as far away from his father and grandfather as possible. They were monsters... She remained silent and shook her head, looking down at the floor. 

Olquaril looked between IImion and his daughter-in-law. "We found your cabin, Irinde... It seems that, Athell has been going there for quite some time... meeting with Ondolemar." He watched as her expression, turned into one of pure panic. She swallowed. Squeezing her mother's hands tighter. His hands dug into Heceril's shoulders... holding him still.

"It seems that Ondolemar and Ancano, both... were taken there, prior to shipping out. It appears, that they assisted Athell, in his endeavor." He looked at IImion, "However... we know, that they boarded alone. Now..." He took a deep breath. "We can resolve this, without a formal hearing, if you tell us, where he is!"

She needed to be quick about it, he knew, he wouldn't be able to reign his son's anger in for long. His mind was near gone in his pain.

Again, IImion looked at his daughter, "Irinde... please tell us, what has happened? Where is Athell?" Part of him didn't want to know... part of him, was afraid to. 

She stared at the floor, silent. He was about in a panic, he looked at Heceril and his father. Holding out his hands in exasperation. "She... she hasn't told us anything, Olquaril... she will not say. Athell means just as much to us... you must understand, we want him to be safe as well."

Heceril was going to lose it! His breathing, coming out in pants... he turned to her, glaring at her. "How could you... you know, Irinde... "

He got closer and closer to her, as he spoke. "You sat outside that door, for days... giving him just enough time, for them to make him up... to sneak him somewhere." 

IImion got closer, ready to get in front of her, if need be. Her voice, as quiet as a whisper. "I let him go... but that is all. I know not, of where he has gone." Tears ran down her face. "I told him not to tell me... " 

She looked at Heceril... "He had to get away from you! You were killing him... I am glad he is gone! Away from you!"

She stood up, pulling away from her mother's hands. Standing with her head held high, "I will face whatever judgment I must face, but I cannot tell anyone, something I do not know..."

Before Olquaril could even react, Heceril pulled free from his grasp. Moving past IImion... He had her! He was growling... his teeth clenched. Heceril had her by the front of her gown, his hands fisted into the material. He literally ran with her in his hold, lifting her off the floor! He slammed her into the wall... and then, shook her! Like a rag doll, he shook her! Her face, crunched up in pain, she grasped at his hands... He screamed at her! "YOU LIE!! YOU LIE!! YOU KNOW WHERE HE IS... YOU WAITED...YOU WAITED!!" 

IImion and Olquaril grabbed at his arms, pulling him back. Her mother was screaming and crying... on her knees, her hands clasped. He still held onto her, "MY SON! IRINDE... MY SON... HE'S MINE!!!"

Olquaril whispered into his son's ear, is voice shaking from the exertion it was taking to hold him back. "We must do what is right, Heceril. There will be a hearing... she will answer to the court. There will be justice, my son!"

Finally, he let loose of her. She dropped to the floor, her shaking hands, trying to straighten the fabric he'd ripped. 

Backing away, he looked at her and her father, his chest rising and falling rapidly, trying to catch his breath. His whole body coming down, from the overflow of adrenaline. Swallowing, he raised his hands, straightening his hair, bending to pick up the brush and circlet he had dropped. 

He walked to the door, turning to look at her. Pure hatred on his face. "I will see you tortured, Irinde... and then, I will see you dead! In the end... I will have what you tried to take from me! You will be dead... and I will have him!" He pushed past the butler and threw open the door. 

Olquaril stood there, looking at her and her father. "You know what this means, IImion... there will be a hearing. Crimes against her husband and my family... crimes against the Dominion, if they are involved... and they were. We have the testimony of the carriage drivers."

He took a deep breath, walking toward the door. He looked almost, identicle to Heceril... simply an older version, with different clothes. Both , equally deadly... especially now. "You will remain under house arrest IImion... until the other Elders can be notified and a hearing arranged."

He turned to his daughter-in-law, his green eyes narrowed. "Irinde... you waited, you kept his whereabouts hidden, until their ships departed. You knew where he was going. If he has left the Isles... you will be executed, you know that. Along with anyone that helped him!" 

Turning his gaze to IImion, "There will be nothing you can do about it... you know our laws." 

He turned and left. IImion just stood there, watching his back, as he got farther into the courtyard and climbed into the carriage. 'He was right... she was guilty.' It wouldn't matter why she had done what she did, she had broken laws. Numerous laws... serious laws. They would lose everything... their grandchildren, their daughter... Everything that she had done.. 

He turned to her... "I... I don't want to know, Irinde. I know why, you did what you did... I just hope they can keep him safe." He took a deep breath, running his hands through his white hair. "If they can't, this will all have been for nothing."

She shook her head, tears hitting the floor. Her voice choked, "Nothing... nothing, that he could go through there, would be as bad, as what his father was doing to him here! Nothing!"

**********

He sat next to his son. Heceril stared straight ahead, clutching the circlet and the brush. "I want the guards questioned again! Someone with red hair... I want entry into those bastard's estates!" 

He smiled, his hand patting his son's leg. "Shhh.... yes my son. You need to remain calm now, we will do everything by the law. The hearing will go in our favor. I will have our fastest ship sent after them. It should arrive just a day behind theirs. They will be detained and questioned. 

Heceril nodded, relaxing... his eyes closed. He needed some wine. Feeling his father's hand, as he rubbed his leg. His touch had always soothed him...


	14. Struggling To Let Go

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He turned and looked at Heceril, for a good long minute. His eyes were closed, his head leaned back against the rounded stonework.
> 
> "You know... I wasn't oblivious to your problems with Athelleen. I simply wanted you to come to me. I feared that my interference, would cause you to distance yourself from me even further."

************

Heceril sat in the carriage, while Olquaril sent couriers from his office. It had been all he could do to get himself under control. He cracked his eyes open as his father climbed back in. "Word is on it's way my son." 

Things couldn't happen fast enough, as far as he was concerned. "How soon can we launch a ship? The longer we wait, the farther ahead they will be... I know that he has left! I can feel it!"

His fists tightened around the precious objects he held. "I will never see him again!" Attempting to fight the incessant panic, that kept rising up in him.

"Shhh... Heceril, you must calm yourself." 

Turning in his seat to face his son, placing a hand on his arm. "We should be able to launch by tomorrow. The ship we send will be smaller, less heavily laden. And therefore much, much faster. You will see him again, do not fear..." 

And he would do all in his power, to make sure it was so. His son's pain would cease. And the ones responsible, would pay!

By the time they reached his father's estate, the sun was getting low in the sky. There would be nothing more they could do today. Heceril walked into his mother's open arms, he welcomed her embrace. He could tell just by the look on her face, she was distraught over seeing him in such a state. He could only imagine what he must look like. He was an absolute wreck.

Her personal servant stood beside her, she was packed and ready to leave. Before they had gone to see Irinde's family, his father had sent word to their estate, she was to be prepared to leave... that things weren't good. Heceril backed out of the embrace, moving away, so his father could take her aside. He spoke to her quietly for a moment. Heceril watched, as the look on her face changed, her eyes moving to him, then back to his father. She turned and climbed into her carriage, her servant behind her. 

She would be staying at their home with Elanin, until this was over. Heceril, would be staying here... with his father, his source of support. With her mother gone, Athell gone, his daughter would want to know what had happened. And right now, he was in no mental or emotional state to answer her. 

It was vital, that Elanin be kept as far away from what would be taking place as possible. She had been away at school, and wouldn't be returning home until tomorrow. He didn't want her coming back to an empty home, finding everyone gone. The doors to his son's room should be replaced by then. Servants had already been replaced with some from his father's estate. 

Keeping her as far as possible from the stress of the situation, was not his only concern. She was enamoured with a young Thalmor student. Heceril was in agreement with the pairing, should it get to the point of marriage. The young Mer hailed from a more than acceptable bloodline, for his daughter. His father, being one of the council member's they would be dealing with tomorrow, was what concerned him.

Once this was made known, there could be scandal. Even given the fact, that Irinde and the two Thalmor officer's were at fault. He didn't want his daughter to suffer. He knew, the Elders and Council members would be discreet. They wouldn't air the troubles of their family, but the carriage drivers tended to have loose lips. They would be persuaded to keep quiet. 

Of course, they wouldn't be advertising the intimate relationship between Ondolemar and Athell, while they discussed the situation. The Elders and council members would come to their own conclusions... after all, he'd grown up with some of them, as had his father. They both knew which ones went outside of their marriages, seeking the company of a male. And there were even those, that had never married, having only been with a member of the same sex. 

Even the father of the Thalmor, his daughter was involved with, was known to indulge from time to time. That however, would not sway him in his decision to let her marry into the family.

None of that, would be looked at in judgement. They would use the fact, that Athell was rebelling against the arranged marriage. And, that his wife and the two traitorous Thalmor, conspired against Heceril, to get his son out of it and away from the Isles, to escape it. 

The Elders and Council members would be told, that Ondolemar and Ancano planned to defect and took advantage of his young son and the situation he was attempting to avoid. That they and his wife, had talked Athell into it, as it would be his only choice to not marry.

For the Thalmor, it would be punishable by death.

If he had his way, she would be executed along with them. His son, as young as he was, his age and their family taken into consideration, would be forgiven. He would worry about a pairing later. He knew Elanin would eventually bear a child, possibly twins, if they were to be so blessed again.

Just thinking about it, he looked around, he felt so helpless... his son. 

He knew... he knew, that his son was gone! And they were all in on it together! 

Running his hands through his mussed hair, he let out a deep sigh. His stomach twisted into knots. The carriage had pulled away, "Come, son... " His father's smooth voice, his hand on his shoulder, shaking him from his painful thoughts. Olquaril turned from him and walked inside.

He followed his father, through the main house and out the back doors, down through the gardens and into his private spa. No one was allowed here but his father and his guests. Not even his mother... she had her own. He knew when his parents relaxed together, it was in her's. 

His father had always required space of his own. "Let us relax before we dine."

A servant quietly set a tray holding a bottle of wine and two goblets, onto a nearby table and left. Heceril got undressed and stepped down into the warm springs. The warm, frothy mineral water, instantly soothing him.

His father had hired masons, to carve steps and areas to sit, right into the natural stone. He dunked under, wetting his hair, coming back up to rest on one of the stone seats. Steam rising off from him, into the cool evening air.

He could already smell the roasted pheasant being prepared. After everything that had happened... all the emotion spent, he was famished.

Hearing his father approach, made him open his eyes. Allowing the towel to fall from around his waist, he picked up the two goblets and stepped down into the water. Heceril smiled, he hadn't been this relaxed in so very long. He had been so obsessed with Athelleen's behavior of late, that he had neglected his relationship with his father. 

Of late... if he was to be honest, it had been the last several years. He had been so distraught over it and so afraid to tell his father.

Heceril took both from him, only for a moment, so he could go under to wet himself entirely. He came up, taking his goblet and settling in next to him. "Hmmmm, this is what we needed." He took a sip of wine, setting it down onto the edge of the pool.

He turned and looked at Heceril, for a good long minute. His eyes were closed, his head leaned back against the rounded stonework. "You know... I wasn't oblivious to your problems with Athelleen. I simply wanted you to come to me. I feared that my interference, would cause you to distance yourself from me even further." 

Olquaril raised his hands from the water, running them through his wet hair. His face pinched up in pain. "I couldn't bear to see you less than I already was."

Heceril was staring at him, a look of shock on his face, "I... father, why didn't you tell me."

He didn't answer, "I had my struggles with you as well son. Of course, you didn't choose to be with a male... had you, well... I don't know what I would have done. But I can only imagine the pain that you must feel."

He looked down into the water, shaking his head slowly. He couldn't talk about his pain... not without shedding more tears. His father had already seen enough of that. He hadn't cried in front of him since he was very young. 

"I never knew... you never let on." 

For someone like his father, who had so much control over their feelings... he never would've guessed. "I wanted to come to you father... but I wanted your praise for handling my own affairs. I didn't..."

His father's hand on his shoulder stopped him. The look on his face, one of understanding... regret. "Then it wasn't as I feared..." He let out a deep breath, his relief evident. Not that what he was hearing was much better, "It was my temper then... that kept you away. And not..."

Heceril turned to him fully, "Father, never... never do you have to fear that... that would never be the reason for my absence." 

His father looked close to tears, "I... I was so hurt over what Athell was doing. It was all I could think about."

He gently took hold of his father's shoulders, "Please... please forgive me."

He swallowed, blinking away his tears, shaking his head. "No, it is I, who beg yours... with this happening... to you, to our family." 

His hands clasped around Heceril's neck, his long fingers holding the back of his head, his thumbs along his jawline. "You are the only son I have. I want nothing to ever come between us again!" 

This was what they needed, time to get close again. Without interference. Now, he understood how tragedies and times of stress could bring closeness back, where it had been lost. That in itself, was tragedy... that something like this, was what it took. That alone, made him fear how bad this could get. If they had taken his Athelleen, where they were going... the very thought of what could happen to him, in that wretched place... 

***********

The next morning while they broke their fast, a courier arrived. The time was set. They rushed through and finished dressing. His father turned to his wardrobe, unlocking a small strongbox. Heceril watched, as he took a tiny vial of powder and dumped it into his wine. Turning with the goblet, "Drink this..."

He took it and drank it down, he wouldn't question. Handing it back to his father, who set it back onto his nightstand. "It will keep your temper in check, but it will still allow clear thought. Just enough emotion to convey what needs be to them. You want them to see your pain. After all, you have been wronged! They will see that side of you."

They sat in their normal seats in the meeting room. There were two other carriage drivers present today, along with those already questioned. They would hear the evidence. They would hear testimony from the carriage drivers. Then they would discuss how to proceed.

They had acquired the deed to the property that the cabin stood on. Showing to whom it belonged. Hearing dates and times, from the year Athell had been let go from Ancano's teachings. Showing an increase in fequency of visits by Athell alone.

Then the second year, all the times they had taken Ondolemar there. But also, times they were just together. Times when he had been told that Athell was having more schooling, training and times, when he thought he was simply out and about the city. He was now finding out, he had been taken to Ondolemar's estate. 

Right down, to his first date with Ondolemar, showing an established relationship, over the period of an entire year. Then of course, before the day of departure, the fact that he and Ancano were both dropped there.

The fact that Ondolemar had sent for Ancano. The note... what it read.

The fact that they altered his appearance. The fact that Irinde stood watch. Counting on her husband, not to get physically violent with her, until the very day that their ships departed.

The fact that she had barred his son's doors, then climbed onto a ledge, to get back into the house. Making it appear, that Athell had locked himself in the room. His empty room! The fact, that she stated in front of her own parents! She was glad that he was gone!"

By the time the day was ending, it hadn't mattered that the cabin no longer stood. They had what they needed. All evidence had been given.

The Elders and Council members stood, the meeting would be adjourned until the next day. Then, Irinde, her servants and her mother and father, would be called in and questioned... seperately, with Heceril and Olquaril present.

Before they could leave their seats, the doors burst open, gasps were heard. This was highly irregular! A soldier escorting an elderly Altmer male, entered the meeting room.

All eyes were on them as the soldier gave a slight bow, then spoke. "Please, forgive the intrusion... this servant has come to us of his own accord, demanding to be heard. He states he has crucial evidence pertaining to the matter, of which you meet."

The soldier bowed again, then turned and left the room. Those that were standing, took their seats. Heceril looked at his father, then back to the Altmer, he looked familiar, but yet, he couldn't quite place him... 

**************

He bowed to all before him, he wouldn't beg their forgiveness for the intrusion, that had already been done. With the information he had, he would be rewarded. It was a travesty, an absolute disgrace, what was happening! What was being done, by their very own! 

*************

He stood, looking out over the ocean. The window open... warm, salt air flowing into the room. The flicker of candle light dancing on the walls. Hands slowly raised from behind him, gently caressing his throat... healing light flowed from them. Instantly he felt the soreness subside. Tomorrow the bruises would barely be evident. 

Soft lips brushed against his ear, a whispered voice, so sincere... "I am so, so sorry."

He always was...

His eyes shot open. It took a moment for him to realize where he was... and whose arms were around him. As soon as recognition flooded in, his chest clenched up in pain... warm, itchy tingling, crawled over the skin on his face as the tears came. 

Ancano tightened his hold, whispering against the shell of his ear. The sensation sent shivers running through him. "Athell, did you have a bad dream? Tell me..."

Silently, he shook his head... hanging onto the arms around him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Also, I just assumed that everyone knew that the carriage driver had read the note... that is how they knew what it said.**


	15. Faithful Servant {Part One}

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fainde stood by and watched as they got closer and closer. Watched, as his Master fell deeper and deeper in love, with a Mer so much his junior, he could've been his own son... his grandson, for that matter.
> 
> He understood how flattering it must have been, for such a desirable young male to express interest in him. After all, Ancano was attractive himself, and still very much in his prime. Many years of life, still lay ahead of him. And there was no doubt, Athell was beautiful. Even to he himself that preferred females, he found him alluring.
> 
> He understood it all... but he knew why Athell was drawn to the older males. Ancano did not. Ondolemar, did not. And he knew that Athell would never, ever tell them.

***********

Fainde had spent many a year, in service to Ancano's family. When his mother had finally passed, and Ancano was all that remained, he went to live with him at his estate. He knew of Ancano's desires... his preferences. He knew why he had never married. Although many of the ones in service to the Thalmor, chose to remain unwed. And there were many different reasons... 

He knew Ancano's reason. He had spent most of his life thus far, in service to their cause. He also, had never been able to get over a loss that had taken place, a very long time ago. He had hardened his heart, not letting anyone get close to him. Making a vow to never feel that kind of pain, ever again.

Until Athell.

As soon as Athell came to stay with them, he saw a change come over Ancano. There was laughter... happiness once again, where there had only been pain and emptiness. And as much as it warmed his own old heart, to see his Master smile, to see him happy, content. He worried... he feared.

He knew who this young Mer belonged to... he knew their family. He had known Olquaril's father, from days long past. Fainde's own father knew, and had told him things. The secrets their family bore. Secrets that even some of their own, were unaware of.

That family was untouchable, the very foundation of the Dominion ran in their veins. The most pure, the wealthiest and most powerful bloodline. Whatever they wanted, would eventually happen. Olquaril was no fool! He knew how to get his way. And he had taught his son, the very same methods.

They would do anything to ensure their bloodline. Of course, in that... they weren't much different than the rest of the prominent families. The Elders and Council members were very protective of their people's heritage. He knew that Ancano getting involved with Athell, would only lead to heartbreak and eventually... complete ruin. There would be no saving the young Mer.

Fainde stood by and watched as they got closer and closer. Watched, as his Master fell deeper and deeper in love, with a Mer so much his junior, he could've been his own son... his grandson, for that matter. 

He understood how flattering it must have been, for such a desirable young male to express interest in him. After all, Ancano was attractive himself, and still very much in his prime. Many years of life, still lay ahead of him. And there was no doubt, Athell was beautiful. Even to he himself that preferred females, he found him alluring.

He understood it all... but he knew why Athell was drawn to the older males. Ancano did not. Ondolemar, did not. And he knew that Athell would never, ever tell them.

After just a few weeks, Ancano moved Athell into his own private master suite. And from that point on, for the majority of two years, it was as if they were a couple. What he feared most, was Heceril finding out. Olquaril... 

He feared what would happen to Ancano, when Athell left. Because eventually he would have to leave. 

After his teachings were done and Athell was gone, he over stepped his place in attempt to try and give caution to him. That Athell's problems were his own, that there was nothing Ancano would be able to do about the situation. Athell would have to accept his lineage and all that entailed, or he would self destruct and all those that attempted to help him, would suffer the same fate.

Ancano had been so enraged, he had come close to letting him go. The only reason he hadn't, was due to the length of his time with them. The fact, that he had been his father's personal servant, the fact that, he had watched him grow into the Mer he was. He was more like family, than a servant.

The night he had taken the note to Ancano, from Ondolemar... what it had said. Then, when Ancano left. When he said his farewell... he knew, that he would never see him again. What he feared most in his heart, was happening. 

Fainde knew who it was happening over as well. Ancano would never have taken these steps, had it not been for Athell... regardless of the fact, that Athell was now basically promised to his best friend. He would do anything, to remain in his life, to not go back to the living death, that he had suffered alone.

As soon as he left, Fainde had searched his private quarters. There were things missing, things that he knew Ancano would have never taken to Skyrim. Family heirlooms... things that were dear to him, that he would want kept safe. Things that he could never protect whilst he was there.

He knew... he had seen this before. And so had his father.

During the Great War, there were those that had escaped their duty, hiding things for later with sympathizers. Those that would remain silent and then, when the one was settled and the scent had died, the trail gotten cold, they would send their things to them.

He loved Ancano... but he loved his people more. Had his parents still been alive, they would have all but died from shame! He would not stand idly by and see this happen! The Dominion was counting on him, and he was betraying them! Over someone that wasn't even his!

News traveled fast. Especially, when an emergency gathering was called. He knew...

He stood in front of the Elders and the Council members. His head held high, "My name is Fainde, I am... or was, personal servant to Ancano."

Heceril instantly shot up from his seat, his hands clenched into fists! He stared at the old Mer. Now, he remembered! Olquaril stood with him, holding his arm.

Fainde told them all of his suspicions, but that he knew not, of the sympathizer the items were being held by. He also gave them the name of Ondolemar's servants, that they may inquire with them.

He turned to Heceril, as the other Elders were discussing what to do. He bowed, speaking low as to keep it private. "Master Aldmeri, I need to speak with you in private... please, it is of grave matter." 

Heceril simply nodded to him, what else was there to do? He already felt, like he could vomit. He felt just like he did, when he had went through the cabin... and saw the very betrayal with his own eyes. Held what remained of his beloved son in his hands.

All were standing, as they addressed Olquaril and his son. "We are in agreement, in light of the situation Olquaril, a ship will sail for Skyrim on the morrow, after we question Irinde and her servants. However, when the subjects are sighted, they will be sent to the Embassy. Where they will be questioned as to the whereabouts of Athelleen Aldmeri. As well as the suspicion of treason... their possible plan to defect. It may behoove us that they remain in Skyrim, until Athelleen is found. They will be observed. If he is actually there with them, and they know of his whereabouts, they will eventually slip up. We will meet back, at the same time in the morning. Soldiers will be sent to question Ondolemar's servants.

As they bowed to one another and readied themselves to depart, Olquaril led Fainde to his office. Heceril followed behind, taking in deep breaths... afraid of what he was about to hear, and knowing deep down that he had to know... he had to hear it and deal with it. Easier said than done. The walk to his father's office was no where near long enough for him to brace himself. The closer they got to the door, the more horrible dread settled in around his heart.

His father stood at his side, ready. Fainde stood before them, ringing his wrinkled hands together, complete empathy ruling the expression on his elderly face. "I feel a great need to tell you, during the time that Athelleen was in my master's care..." He looked down, he could barely face them and say it. "He was... my master... was intimate with him."

Olquaril's grip tightened painfully on his arm. Letting out a deep groan as his eyes welled up, his hands flew up to cover his face! He couldn't stand it! 

"They lived as a couple, for the majority of the time that he was with us. Sharing Ancano's private quarters."

Heceril ripped from his father's grasp! Throwing open the doors, he ran from the room!

Fainde got down onto his knees in front of Olquaril, his head was bowed. "Whatever the punishment, for not speaking sooner... I will face it. What my master did... even with your grandson's consent... it was wrong."

Tapping him lightly on the shoulder, "You are dismissed for now, I thank you for your honesty Fainde." He walked out, leaving the old Mer on his knees. He needed to find his son before he did something he would regret. Servants were motioning for him to come, pointing the way.

************

He couldn't hear... he couldn't even see. Aware of nothing, nor anyone that he ran past. He blacked out.

When Olquaril got to him, he was in the rear gardens... on his knees, hands clutching his head. He was sucking in air, gasping for breath. Tears ran down his face, a string of saliva hung from his lower lip, rocking back and forth. 

Getting down onto his knees in front of his son, he put both hands on his shoulders and spoke calmly and quietly. "Heceril... I'm going to take you home... do you hear me?"

He heard him, but it wasn't sinking in... he couldn't speak. His father stood him up and taking him by the hands, led him around to their carriage. He was in shock, his eyes were far away. He needed to get him away from this... or he wouldn't be able to handle what was coming tomorrow.

*************

Waking, he had been undressed... he was laying in a bed... his father's. He could see him, sitting in the chair opposite him. The room was almost dark, shadows danced over the walls from the one remaining candle that burned. 

He looked so concerned, more so, than he ever remembered seeing him before. His long silver hair, now down, falling over his bare shoulders. 

"Father... come to bed." He held his hand out to him. 

He leaned forward, his arms on his knees, hands clasped. He looked down. "Heceril... there is so much that weighs on you." 

"Come..." His hand still extended, "We both need our rest... I would have your comfort..."

He stood and walked around the bed. Pushing the silk evening pants over his hips, he let them fall to the floor, stepping out of them he climbed in. Laying on his side, he let out a soft breath, looking at the back of his son's head. His long white blonde hair, fanned out over the pillow.

After a moment, Heceril's hand came up to his shoulder, reaching back for him. He took it... and held it. His heart ached for him. To see him so horribly wronged... so hurt. For Ancano to take something that was so dear, something that wasn't his... No matter how his questioning went, when it was all said and done, he would fall by his son's hand. 

"Goodnight, my son."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you all enjoy. The next chapter coming up. *With what you're finding out here... keep chapter 4 in mind.*


	16. Faithful Servant {Part Two}

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Now, he wished.. he wished that he had given in... given him what he wanted. He had to get him back... he had to come home. He would give him anything! Anything he wanted!
> 
> And then, he would have to deal with his own father.

I don't have to remind you, oh oh  
It's my need to confine you, oh ohhh  
I see your face every time I'm with somebody else  
Can't you see that I want you?  
Put your feelings behind you  
I don't have to remind you, oh oh {I don't have to remind you}  
Where you belong {where you belong}

**********

He lay in bed thinking... listening to his father's slow and steady breathing, holding the arm around him. Their relationship had always been one of complexity. It wasn't hard. It wasn't difficult. This portion of it anyway. This portion, never had been. Other than the fact that he was more stern, more in control... his father, was like him.

They both had loved their wives, they both needed and longed for a female. However once in awhile, just like himself, his father felt the desire to be with a male. He didn't know for sure, if his father had ever sought out other males for company. He figured the answer would be yes. Had his absence not been so great, for so long.... he probably wouldn't have chosen to.

But even then, he couldn't be sure. It wouldn't have hurt him.. not the way that Athell wanting others had.

Just laying there thinking over it, his chest was tightening up. He could feel the warmth spreading up his neck, through his face. He closed his eyes against it. That was not how it was supposed to be...

He loved Athell. Their relationship had been so special. For him to want others... He just couldn't bear the thought of another male touching him.

Warm tears ran down the side of his face, over the bridge of his nose, and into the pillows. He knew most, if not all of the strife that plagued him, was over Athell's choice to be only with males. And the fact that he couldn't handle it. He was jealous. He was worried about an heir... 

He blamed himself.

From the very start, Athell had taken to their relationship differently than he had with his father. For all he knew, differently than Olquaril had with his father, or any others for that matter. None of the males in their bloodline that he knew of, had chosen to remain with males. Any time spent with a male was kept within the family, or it was sought out privately.

As soon as he realized that Athell's needs were different, he should have gone to his father for guidance. But the desire to handle it himself, had caused him to fail. Caused him to tighten his hold... tighter than Athell could take.

If anything, the way his son had taken to him, caused him to feel much more than he should have as well. What they had wanted, was impossible. It simply wouldn't work. And him, trying to make Athell understand that had just confused him. Especially, when neither of them, could let go of what they had.

Athell started to close up. The night would begin happy, enjoyable and end in sorrow. Athell clinging to him... and him feeling guilty over it. And unable to stop, for his own weakness...

The older he got, the harder it became to play dual roles in his life. To be a father and a lover. When Athell wanted a real relationship and he couldn't give his all to him... he started asking if he could date. Which happened just prior to his schooling. His need to possess him became that much stronger. 

Again, his failure.

He tried to make him understand, that he had to eventually be with a female. Who they were... there were expectations, responsibilities, but that they would still have each other. That was when the real rebellion started. Athell's last recourse, was to fight back.

But even with all of their fights... the problems, Athell still wanted him. Even when his temper was out of control, he would heal him, he would beg for his forgiveness. Athell still would ask him to stay, making his guilt all the more unbearable.

And now, he understood how him going to Ancano, had just magnified what he was feeling... what he was going through. Athell came home, with all the knowledge that he'd gained from another. The freedom he'd had to have his secret relationship and he rubbed it in his face!

He even had the audacity to tease him, to try and get him turned on, during times and in places that they couldn't be together. He had never been so bold! Of course, he hadn't known Ancano had anything to do with it at the time.

When he came home from his teachings, he knew he was still pure. He could tell. It was evident to him now, they had done all but that. Athell letting Ancano think, that he had been the one to show him everything... giving him a false sense of pride.

Of course, being with another, had also given Athell the self confidence to be more aggressive. He had always been so submissive with him, he would tell him what he wanted, but would never take the lead.

Now, after hearing the testimony of the drivers, he knew the actual day that he had gone on his first date with Ondolemar. He had always wondered, just what had caused the massive change in his son. The reason he had been so aggressive that night. Heceril closed his eyes, remembering the events of that evening...

He had waited up, it had been way past the time when he was normally home. With everything that had been taking place, all their troubles... he had grown more and more suspicious. Wanting him gone less and less. He sat in Athell's room, waiting by candlelight, sipping on wine, trying not to fret.

Wearing only silk evening pants, he sat by the window, waiting for the carriage to drop him at the doors. Watching the waves hit the shore in the distance, moonlight washing over him.

He knew that his wife allowed Athell time away whenever he was gone. He didn't ever want to hurt Athell, he just couldn't handle what was happening. Completely lost in thought when the carriage rode onto their property, he watched as his son, climbed out and walked toward the doors. He remembered how tight his chest had been, the apprehension in him so great. He swallowed, every move, every thought, every emotion... replaying in his mind.

Athell had been expecting him. He walked into his room and closed the door, locking it behind him. He stood up from the chair, standing there watching him, as he very quietly lowered the door bar into place. Something they only did, when they wanted private time, to keep someone with a key from entering. He whispered to him roughly, "Where have you been! Have you any idea of the hour?"

Much to his shock, there was no argument... he stood there blinking in confusion as Athell casually undid his clothing, dropping each piece onto the floor and walked toward him. He was already hard. Literally standing erect, pressing into him, as he pushed him up against the wall. His bright, green eyes were heavy with lust, "I don't want to fight... _I need you."_

That was all it had taken. Athell's mouth came to his, his hands entwined into Heceril's hair.

He had never been this way with him, ever. He had practically pushed him to the bed, yanking down his pants. Grabbing his wrists, he'd held him down... and he more than allowed it. He longed for it!

He hadn't been that turned on in so very long. He'd laid there, all the strength in him gone, as his son did as he pleased with him. Just the way he looked down at him, he could tell seeing him come apart... at his hands, was just as much a turn on for him.

Never, had Athell been confidant enough to take him... to be the top. Just as he had never been the top with his own. His father, _had always_ been the aggressor. And he had always been fine with that... it was blissful release, as far as he was concerned. To have such a Mer, that was always so in control, want him to the point of growling and biting. Watching the one in control... lose control.

He'd literally had to muffle his cries into a pillow. Athell had pushed one of his legs up to his shoulder, the other held down straight, as he pounded into him. Sweat rained down onto him. His son's flaxen hair flying about, as his thrusts became harder and harder!

He had cum, untouched. That hadn't happened in as long as he could remember. Athell actually running his fingers through it, bringing them to his mouth to taste it. When it was over, they had bathed together... something that was a soother for them both. Personal time spent, just enjoying each other's company. It was almost as if nothing had come between them.

Then they slept. He would never forget the emotion that had roiled within him, as he unlocked the door and left before his wife awoke. He was so torn. Now he wanted, what he felt had been rekindled. What they'd had prior to his horrible rebellion.

For two weeks, Athell had been out almost nightly. And every night, it was the same when he came home... such passion, so much so that he wished now, that they could make this work.

Then... to be told that the whole time, he had been seeing another. To come home and find him covered in the very same marks, that he himself was covered with! That he'd had to heal himself from nightly, to escape his wife from finding out!

That what was to be his, had been taken by another! He had felt as if his very heart, were being ripped from him! He came unglued! He was _so_ hurt. Then, to be alone for three days... he had wanted to go to his father then. But, to admit to him that he had failed... he just couldn't.

A few weeks after they had returned home, he and Athell had gone away. Just the two of them, to their vacation home. It had been their retreat... even before Athell had felt the need to retreat from him and his rules. They had spent many a weekend there.

They had made love. He had him fully, for the very first time. Athell telling him after, while they lay together, reassuring him... that he could be with a male and _only_ with a male, and they could still have each other.

Now he wished.. he wished that he had given in... given him what he wanted. He had to get him back... he had to come home! He would give him anything!... anything he wanted!

And then, he would have to deal with his own father.

He held onto the arm around him. Even as much as the remembering, made his heart ache... he was hard as steel. Au-riel! That night... those two weeks. And even after that, whenever they had made love. It had been so, so good... just how it used to be with the one that was now curled up against him. 

Gently taking his father's hand, he slowly moved it lower...

***********

Knowing what they would be dealing with, he should have been a bundle of nerves. But he couldn't be. They had both been in great need of the release. It was quite evident, they were refreshed... invigorated. He couldn't remember the last time, his father had looked this happy. Both of them forcing their smiles away, when they walked into the conference hall.

One room, was to contain Irinde and her parents. Another, her servants.

The main room was set up to interrogate. A chair in the very center, where the one being questioned would sit. Neither Heceril, nor his father, had chosen to do the questioning. They had written out a list of questions, pertaining to evidence already at hand and what had taken place at his home, and at her family's.

Three of the Elders would be doing it. The rest of them would sit as witness, and ask any questions they may have.

Olquaril knew that if Irinde was questioned first, she would simply agree to all that she had said and done. Except the fact, that she knew where Athelleen was. He knew that she would deny it, even under torture...

Heceril let his father speak for him. Olquaril stood, "We would have the Bosmer servant first."

Qorwyn nodded to him, waving to the guard. "Send the Bosmer out."

Head down, the guards led her out. A tiny thing, dressed well, her coal black hair, pulled up into a bun. Her black eyes flashing up to Heceril, as she walked to the chair and sat down. She knew why she had been chosen first.

Qorwyn folded his hands and placed them under his chin, as he smiled down at her. "Menel... I know just how hard it is, for a faithful servant such as yourself, to be in such a difficult position as this. However, we are counting on you, to do the right thing and be honest with us."

She nodded, her small hands ringing together in her lap. Her chin and bottom lip, already shaking. Her huge black eyes, tearing up.

This one would be easy. Had he chosen one of the Altmers, things would have been different. Menel had always been soft-hearted. The Bosmer as a people, tended to be at times. Hence they were more easily dealt with.

"Menel... you have been in the employ of the Aldmeris for many years now. In fact, you were Irinde's servant first, is that correct?"

She nodded as she spoke, "Yes. I was Irinde's personal servant, prior to her engagement."

Qorwyn just kept smiling. His amber eyes, locked with her black ones. They could all see that she was visibly shaking and trying very hard to control it. "Most of your family resides here in the Isles.. do they not? And you all send funds to those that do not, in order to help them... is that right?"

Menel broke! Her hands flying to her mouth to cover it! She fought to be quiet, in attempt to not to sob openly. She swallowed, tears flowing down her dark skin. Her voice, shaky. Glancing again at Heceril. "Yes. Master Heceril, would send part of my pay to them for me. Before him, Irinde's father would do the same."

She had been thankful for her position and her employers. It had helped her family tremendously and she was treated well. But she also knew what would happen to them, if she was not honest. She knew that was really the reason why, her family was even mentioned. And Heceril knew where they all were located.

"That was very good of them, wasn't it. They have been very good to you Menel. So... it is important that you tell us exactly what took place, on the night Athelleen left. You owe Heceril the truth, don't you?"

Her eyes met Heceril's, then back to Qorwyn's. She nodded, "Yes."

"There had been a fight..." her eyes flew up to Heceril's. "An argument, between Master Heceril and his son. Irinde had gone in to see Athell, to comfort him." She rung her hands together, swallowing and glancing at Heceril. She wouldn't look at his father, he terrified her.

"Athell's betrothed was at the house, and he was refusing to see her."

She was sure, they had all heard the fight, it had been a miracle that their visitors hadn't. "Master Heceril went down to see them, but she didn't make Athell come out." Tears ran down her face, as she looked at Heceril. "After they left, Irinde and Master Heceril fought over him not seeing them."

Her eyes went down to her lap, "Menel, look at me... what happened then."

Looking up to him, "Master Heceril left. He was very angry. She rang for us all. She told us to pack the rest of Athell's things, that she would send them to him, when he was settled. Then, we were to pack hers. She told us that we must not tell Master Heceril, under no circumstances! Then she lowered the door bar into place, and climbed out onto the ledge to come back in. Snapped the key off in the lock too."

Qorwyn's court clerk, who was transcribing the minutes, paused. Looking between them, waiting for someone to speak. "Menel... how is it, that you happened to hear, what was taking place, prior to Irinde ringing for you."

She bit her lip, glancing over at Heceril again. "I tend to... I mean, I used to tend to Athell's needs as well. So my quarters lay between his and Master Heceril's. The laundry chutes are connected between my quarters and Athell's. I hear almost anything that happens." Heceril glared at her... she swallowed. Another reason why she was chosen first. Heceril knew, that she knew. She was bound to never speak of it, lest her family suffer!

"Menel... did you hear what Irinde told Athell, while she was comforting him? Did you hear where it was, that she sent him?"

Raising her trembling hands up to her mouth, tears dripping from her face. Her eyes darting between Heceril's and Qorwyn's... her voice broke, as she sobbed out.

"Yes..."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> * lyrics ~ Where you belong  
> by: The Weeknd *
> 
> *Also, you may think that I've missed something, with the love bites and the loss of his virginity... au contraire. It's coming up later.* Also, his conversation in bed with Ancano, in chapter 9... it may seem conflicting, but you will find things out about it later that will make sense and why he felt that way. Things will come to light.


	17. Divulgence {Part One}

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Once Qorwyn had taken his seat again, he nodded at a guard who stood in the corner, next to a set of long and heavy curtains. Raising his voice. "You may join us now, IImion!"
> 
> Heceril looked straight ahead... even with his own agreement to their offer... he was too angry to look upon him!
> 
> Moving the curtains aside, their fellow Elder... Irinde's own father, walked from within a concealed room, where he had sat the entire time, listening to Menel's testimony.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a note... I know, that the history and Heceril's thoughts, on being with males in chapter 6, may seem to conflict with the incestual relationship he's had with his father and his son. You will find out more as we go along.

***********

Giving her a minute to calm down... Qorwyn's eyes moved between each of the Elders, finally settling on Olquaril.

After a few moments, and an excruciating attempt to hold his patience, he looked back to her. It took everything he had, to keep his voice even. "Menel... we are waiting."

Briefly closing her eyes... her hands, clasped over her heart. She took a deep breath. "Irinde had him pack... she was sending him to the lake house. She knew that Ondolemar, would go there to see him before he left."

Heceril's eyes darted between Qorwyn and Menel... waiting.

"Irinde told Athell to leave with him... to go with him, when it was time."

Seeing the anger rising up in her Master's face, she rushed to blurt out her next words! Hoping that what she now said, would at least protect the young heir from any judgement. It was too late for them. 

"At first, Athell refused! Saying that he couldn't do that! But she insisted! She said, that it was the only way for him to escape his marriage and..." Looking down at the floor, she broke down... her chest heaving from her sobs as she sucked in each breath! "She said he had to get away from here..."

Swallowing, she wiped at her face. There was no going back now... it was out! Her fate and her mistresses', would be forever changed. She looked up at Heceril... then to Qorwyn. "She told Athell, that he was to send any correspondence to the lake house... that she would collect it there and send him anything that he needed."

Heceril's hands went into fists... he stood up, glaring at her! His father, bolted up from his seat! A hand going to his arm. Every eye in the room was upon her! An audible swallow, came from her as her head bowed... tears ran from her face.

Hurriedly Qorwyn spoke, he knew what was going to come out of Heceril's mouth, even before he had the chance to voice it! "Menel... did you not think, that any of this was important enough, to tell your Master?"

Her black eyes widened in fear, as he stood and walked around the other Elders, actually coming down onto the floor to stand directly in front of where she sat. Arms pressed up against her chest... her clasped hands in front of her mouth. Her whole body visibly shook! Nodding furiously... her voice, choked. "Yes!... yes! I wanted to tell him! I did! But, if I had..."

Her eyes settled on Heceril. "The Altmer servants! They threatened me! They said that my people would suffer if I told you!"

Her voice, shaking to the point now, that they could barely understand her. "They said, we owed our allegiance to Irinde... and not Master Heceril."

Heceril leaned over the table! His voice echoing throughout the room as he yelled! " _I would have protected you!_ Menel! How could you! To keep something of this gravity from me!" The cords, standing out in his neck! He was now screaming! _"MY SON!! OUR BLOODLINE!!"_

Olquaril grabbed his arms, holding him as Heceril's eyes bulged! His face darkening in his rage! _"TRAITORS!!! ALL OF THEM ARE TRAITORS!!"_

Instantly, she was off her chair and down onto her knees in front of Qorwyn! Her breaths coming out in pants as she raised her hands up to him in pleading! "Please! I beg you... I knew not of what to do!" Her voice wavering as she wept. Tears streaming down her face as she looked up to him. "I would never betray my Master's family... I had no choice!" Her hands clutched onto his legs as he stood over her. "My family... please... do not hurt them! I beg you!"

Servants rushed over to Heceril and his father... pouring them wine, as he finally was able to get him seated. Heceril looked up to her, pure astonishment on his face! _"Your family!!_ Menel... _what of mine!_ I have always looked after your people! And this is what I get in return! _My son!_ Menel... in that horrible place! I could have stopped _all of this!"_

Qorwyn signaled for the guard. His eyes meeting Heceril's and his father's. "A ship will be launched right now! Not only with summons to bring them to the Embassy for questioning, but with soldiers and Justiciars, to aid in the search for your missing heir."

All of the Elders were now on their feet, standing around Qorwyn! The council members stood, but remained at their assigned places. This had been discussed at great length the day before. What ship would be sent, how they would proceed. The utmost care had to be taken!

A simple wave of his hand, sent his personal secretary to prepare the documents. The court clerk watched them... waiting. 

Qorwyn looked down at her as two guard approached them. Taking her by the arms, they lifted her up to her feet. "Your fate, will be decided in time, Menel. Right now... I feel that keeping you as a witness, is more important than issuing a judgement against you!"

Looking at the guard, "Take her to a separate holding area. Have things prepared for a long duration, she will be with us for quite some time."

As soon as she was dismissed, Heceril and his father walked to the floor, gathering with them. Two of the Elders chimed in at once. "Great caution must be taken! If our enemy finds out that your heir is there... and at risk!" Both of their heads shook in unison.

This wasn't a situation where they could put out a public summons in order to have him collected! Skyrim was literally full of those, that would take any opportunity they could to harm them! If anyone were to find out, who Athell was... it could be disastrous!

Heceril's stomach churned... just the thought of his son there! In that wretched place! It was quite obvious, that neither she nor the Thalmor in question, had thought this out! The dangers that could befall him at every turn! The fact, that the one responsible for the rebellion... would just love to get his hands on him!

If that happened...

Shaking his head, attempting to rid himself of the horrible thoughts that sprang into his mind! Heceril looked at each of the other Elders... "I know we cannot let any of the Nords know who is in their land! It would just impede us in collecting him!"

Qorwyn shook his head... "I fear, that we cannot even feel safe, in telling the Imperials there. Or letting the Empire in on the situation at all, not yet."

Olquaril's hands went to his hips. "You do not feel that they would aid us?"

He shook his head, looking between them... "At this time, no one knows but us. Until we know the situation... it may be best to handle it among ourselves. Many of the Imperials stationed there are local Nords! Many of them, have family members on the other side of the civil war! We are still getting reports, of Imperial soldiers having contact with them... and hiding it!"

One of the other Elders spoke up! "They would attempt to help us... most definitely! But, their own soldiers spreading the word, could hurt us! Once they found out... it would soon spread from the soldiers to the town guards... then all of Skyrim would know! When that happens... Athelleen will be in more jeopardy, than he already is."

All of them looking at Heceril, "We will do everything, that we can to collect him! But... none of us feel that involving the Empire yet, is the wisest thing to do. Only if we have no other choice."

Qorwyn stepped closer to them... placing a hand on each of their shoulders. "Athell is not only your son! Heceril... but heir to the Dominion! We will never give up! No matter the cost."

He nodded, his father putting a reassuring hand to his back, led them once again to their seats.

The Elders were moving away, taking their seats once more as well. They were no where near done. Servants were going from table to table, refilling goblets with water and wine. "We will call Irinde and her servants out momentarily."

He turned away to take his place. Allowing them to take theirs, as four chairs were set into the center of the floor.

There were three seats set to one side, for the Altmer servants. And one to the other side, for Irinde.

Once Qorwyn had taken his seat again, he nodded at a guard who stood in the corner next to a set of long, heavy burgundy curtains. Raising his voice, "You may join us now, IImion!"

Heceril looked straight ahead... even with his own agreement to their offer, he was too angry to look upon him!

Moving the curtains aside, their fellow Elder... Irinde's own father, walked from within a concealed room, where he had sat the entire time, listening to Menel's testimony.

He bowed to Heceril and his father... then turning, bowed to Qorwyn and the others. His face flushed... he walked to his normal seat and took his place among them.

He also knew what was coming... he had been told on the very first day of the hearing, when he'd met with them all. That should their vote to keep him in his position, go in his favor... Olquaril and his son both, would be allowed to confront him! He was prepared.

In light of the situation, they had been calling for his dismissal. All of the members... Councilmen and Elders alike, felt that he would be unable to act unbiased... that he was too personally close to the situation to maintain his position, and not only act fairly. But that his allegiance to the Dominion, would fall to the wayside once she was judged, and the time came for her to be sentenced.

He requested that he be allowed to listen in on the servant's testimony. He had also told them, of what his daughter had said at their home. He knew that his wife would not be able to handle being present. And if he was able to keep and take his place among them, in service to his people, that his wife be excused.

This was the only way, for him to save his family's reputation, and thus in doing that... he would be aiding his own grandchildren and future generations. If he hadn't... any hope for them would have been lost. For a royal to betray the Dominion... their people. It was unspeakable!

Even if he hadn't always agreed with Olquaril or his son-in-law, what she had done... the danger that she had placed their heir in... placed their people in... was inexcusable!

He also knew, that he would have no direct say in his daughter's sentence. And... that their home would be subject to extra guard... his mail, along with any packages that came and went, would be subject to inspection. He also knew, that their decision to keep him at his current status, could be rescinded at any time! for any reason!

If needs be... he would again, swallow his pride and humbly beg before Oquaril and Heceril Aldmeri, that the Dominion meant everything to him! That he was worthy of carrying out his duties for them!

Olquaril stood, facing him. "IImion! I am well aware of the offer given to you! As my son and I both voted in agreement, that you should be given this chance. I know, in what has happened... what this not only means to your family... but to mine as well. I understand your need to protect your wife... Irinde's mother, from being here to witness your daughter's judgement today. Can you swear, that you will act fairly and unbiased... can you swear, to all that are present! That you will put the Dominion... your people! Before your own daughter!"

Wearing his Elder's robes... he stood at attention, looking Olquaril in the eyes and raised his right hand to his chest in a fist saluting him! "I swear to you Olquaril Aldmeri... and all that are present here! That I serve the Dominion! I serve our people! Above all! Until my dying breath!"

"Thank you IImion... you may take your seat."

Turning to Heceril, who had finally acknowledged him, giving him a slight bow... he took his seat. He knew, any show of weakness on his part at any time, and any one of them could have him removed. He would be strong. He had to be...

Qorwyn motioned for the guard... "Bring Irinde and the Altmer servants out!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Now, when Qorwyn says 'Heir, to the Dominion...' They all realize, that they are no longer under the rule of a king or queen. At least not in this story. In Skyrim, I have yet to find any material... book or anything, stating whether or not there is a royal in power anymore. All I could find, was that the Thalmor are the ruling body of the Aldmeri Dominion...
> 
> So... from what I've read, as of current Skyrim time: The Thalmor, which is a council made up of individuals from across the Aldmeri Dominion. (Two unified regions, Valenwood & Alinor... both of which get equal say, in the Thalmor Council (which is located in Alinor)
> 
> Half are Altmer Elders and nobility of the Summerset Isles and the rest are Bosmer, from family clans in the form of Branch Chieftains. 
> 
> Now, in my story... I'm just saying Council members and Elders. But remember... either way, whether it's a Bosmer Council member or an Altmer one... the Aldmeri Dominion, sees Ulfric as an enemy!
> 
> And with them being of the Aldmeri bloodline, they to me... would have a whole lot of sway in things. Even if there is no longer a king or queen. They would be looked very highly upon.
> 
> All ref are taken from : Pocket Guide to the Empire 1st edition, Rising Threat, The Talos Mistake, The Thalmor Dossier: Esbern, (Plus) Elder Scrolls Lore (Altmer Part 5: Piecing together the Thalmor). Which I found online and was tremendously helpful, in areas where I had forgotten some of what I had read in the books.


	18. Divulgence {Part Two}

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Leaning his backside against his desk, he folded his arms. "I sincerely believe, Irinde... that you have no idea, just how close your husband and your son are. I grew up with Olquaril... our families are very, very close! I can guarantee you, that your son's refusal to marry, is a direct result of their close relationship."
> 
> A look of pure bewilderment came over her, as she slowly shook her head... "No... you... you don't understand! You..."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again... TAGS. I will not be putting warnings before the chapters. From this point on, things will be getting more and more severe.

They had all been in agreement, from the very beginning. From the time, when there was no longer one royal in power... that the Thalmor... the Council, would make all decisions together! They would _all agree_ , to do what was best for the Dominion!

One of the reasons for this, was so that one individual could not make biased decisions... self serving decisions, that could affect them all negatively. That could pose threat to their beloved Dominion and the Aldmeri people. Absolute power would no longer be in the hands of one individual, or one family.

But... the Aldmeri bloodline had been the very foundation of the Dominion. All of their royal and noble families were very important! But, this family held more power amongst their people, than any other! They would all decide... but it would be in favor of protecting their heritage, and one of their oldest and most prominent of royal bloodlines!

All of their Elders and Council members, came from royal... from noble bloodlines. Under normal circumstances, because of the blood that flowed through their veins, Olquaril would have been seated where Qorwyn now sat, and Heceril would have been seated next to him.

But now, with this situation being of such a personal matter... the fact that resources would have to be used... the fact that it could very easily turn into a very large Dominion problem. Olquaril and his son had turned over their normal positions, electing Qorwyn, Lorund and Norilar, to speak in their place.

They would have a say... just like any of the rest. But electing to have other Elders speak on their behalf, they would actually be protected. Protected from being accused of using Dominion power and resources for their own family... their own means.

The guards waited to bring them out, as they decided on how to proceed.

The long courtroom was filled with Mer. The center of the floor was the lowest point, and where any facing judgement, or any that needed to be heard were to be seated, as they addressed the Council. Rich, polished desks, made of the finest woods, lined both sides moving upward in tiers, so that each Council member could see and hear.

At the head of the room, facing the center... sat three desks that were adjoined. Any Elders that were chosen to speak for the group... were to be seated there. Alongside each one, was a court clerk and a secretary, that would take minutes from each meeting held and prepare any documents needed. The floor, the most intricately carved stonework, the walls lined with the current Aldmeri banner... up until the very center. That banner, was the original. The very first Aldmeri Banner... sealed in glass, so that it may be preserved.

Each member, no matter title... no matter Altmer or Bosmer, wore the same identical robe. Robes that were set aside and worn only for this duty.

Lorund, seated on the right side of Qorwyn, spoke up... folding his long fingers on the table in front of him. "We have many, many issues to discuss, before judgement is passed!"

All of them, including Heceril and his father, nodded. They had added another court clerk... there was to be no error! Not a single word, could be missed!

Looking around, he met each one's gaze. "We have the fact, that nothing was missing from Ondolemar's residence. The servants there, all testified that nothing was out of place! Just one more question that needs to be answered, while they are under interrogation!"

Qorwyn looked to Heceril and his father... "Norilar, has agreed to travel to the Embassy on this ship, and act as interrogator. As we will need someone present, that knows the situation in it's entirety. A clerk, secretary and one other council member of his choosing, will accompany."

Olquaril nodded. "That will be more than sufficient..." giving a slight bow to Norilar... "You have the thanks of our entire family, Norilar."

Lorund continued... "Of course we have all agreed, that no action would be taken on the Commander and Ancano, no matter what the findings, until Athelleen is found. They will be questioned and depending on the outcome of that, they will be forced to stay in Skyrim until Athelleen is found. However! We still have no witnesses of your son getting on a ship, or even being sighted near the docks." Lorund's eyes landed directly on Heceril.

Heceril's eyes narrowed, but he held his tongue... waiting, he continued to listen. "I think we all realize, that he could have been smuggled aboard, with the aid of any decent invisibility spell... we are after all, talking about one of our finest wizards!"

All present looked at one another... nodding their heads in agreement. Norilar continued for him. "There is still a possibility though, that Athell is somewhere in the Isles... he was disguised after all. They could have orchestrated this, to look like he departed with them... while Athell is making his way elsewhere in our own lands... under disguise, and all the while we are concentrating on Skyrim. What we are saying is... while our ship sails to deal with the possible wayward Justiciars, it would behoove us to have soldiers searching our own lands for him as well. I motion that we have one of our artists draw something up, that matches him under disguise... not giving a name of course, and just question for that particular individual based solely on looks."

Qorwyn tilted his head... watching Olquaril as he sipped on his wine. "It is possible, if that were the plan once the Justiciars were cleared and returned from duty, he would join them right here under our very noses... I agree. It should be taken into consideration."

Olquaril leaned back in his seat, his thumb rubbing over his goblet. "Heceril and I both agree to all that was just mentioned. However... all the evidence points to him leaving with them. We have the Bosmer's testimony... we have IImion's testimony... hearing what his own daughter said at his own residence! Carriage driver's testimony, that both were delivered there... the fact that they were all there together, before his disappearance and before their departure! And, we have the evidence at the cabin, showing the creation of the disguise!"

He sat forward, looking at the three of them... irritation, clear on his face! The tension in the room was now physically apparent. Many of the other members, looked between themselves nervously... "Whatever story they spin, they were there... they were together! They aided him! The note to Ancano! his missing heirlooms... their relationship to Athelleen! they are not free of guilt!"

Qorwyn raised his hands to him. "Please... Olquaril. No one is questioning the severity of this. Nor are we stating, that they are without guilt in the situation. Their involvement at all, makes them guilty. But to what severity, is what we must discover."

Heceril was immediately, out of his seat! Olquaril grabbed his arm! attempting to stay him, as his son pointed in the direction of the cell that held his wife... his voice shook with anger! "She told him to leave! He tried to resist... and she insisted! He is all but _nineteen years of age!_ Ancano is over seventy! Ondolemar is what! aged fifty or better! They are two of our _supposed_ trusted!" Slamming his hand down onto the polished wood! "He would have _never!_ taken these steps on his own!"

Qorwyn stood, looking at Heceril in understanding, speaking softly, "You misunderstand me... please... I do realize, that this is hard for you. And in no manner, am I attempting to patronize you. What we are saying is that we must discover, where your wife's influence ended... if at all, and where their's took over. We must find out exactly how much, they knew of your wife's plans. The depth of their involvement in this together... prior, during and after his disappearance, will help us determine what punishment should be carried out in the end."

Heceril's head bowed, he was fighting tears... anger. "Forgive me... all of you. I am afraid that my pain... my worry, is pushing my actions." Looking up toward them, his face pinched up in his frustration. "I am truly thankful, to have you acting in my behalf."

Qorwyn took his seat. "Heceril, I cannot imagine your pain! I simply cannot... but, please trust us... that we will do all in our power, to see that justice is done. That your son is returned!"

He nodded... feeling the hand on his arm, as it moved to his back and began to rub in slow circles. Grabbing his goblet, he drank... and listened.

Lorund looked between Norilar and Qorwyn... "Until this matter is resolved, I believe that Irinde should be held without further sentence. Not only do we need to prove the depth of their involvement together, as you have said. But, she could be used as leverage."

Olquaril watched as his son's ears perked up in interest... they both leaned forward, waiting to hear his plan.

Clearing his throat, he continued. "Neither one of these Thalmor are careless Mer! Now, even if whatever plan they made seems that way... I fail to believe that they would put Athelleen into harms way intentionally."

The old Altmer looked down into the rich wood, his eyes narrowing... head tilting, as he thought it over. "They both would have realized, that this would happen. They both know, how important Athelleen is... and they would have taken into consideration, that they would be detained and questioned."

His green eyes moved to Norilar... he sat forward, looking around Qorwyn at him. "You must go into the interrogation, with the knowledge that they have already prepared what they would say, even to the point of duress."

Norilar nodded his head. Lorund met the gaze of each Elder... each member... one by one. "They will have also prepared a safe place, for him to be... while he waits for them. Only Au-riel knows where that would be there. But it would have to be someplace, where Athell would not have to worry over how to survive."

He shook his head... his silver eyebrows gathering. "I cannot believe, that they would simply drop him into an unknown place... with no way or means to live or defend himself. That would be... ludicrous."

Celegth... one of the Bosmer members raised his hand, leaning forward. "It is more than likely Qorwyn, that they would want him nearby where they were to be posted. Possibly, so they could pass funds to him... watch his status, without drawing too much attention to themselves in the process. We should take into consideration, where each one was to be stationed during their time there. And have each location searched?"

Norilar nodded. "I will handle that as well. As it is, I will be forced to stay until Athelleen is found and the matter closed." Turning his head to Lorund, he lifted his goblet. "As you were saying... Leverage? Please continue..."

Lorund turned his gaze upon the Bosmer... lifting a hand to him. "Celegth's insight, was exactly what I was waiting for. Sooner or later, they will get word of what is happening to Athelleen, of what is transpiring here. He will find out that his mother's freedom is in jeopardy, and that alone, should have great impact on his thoughts of staying away from his homeland. It will make it hard, not only for him... but for them, to remain resolute in their plan! They will not want to see his family hurt, and the knowledge that she is imprisoned, may sway them in keeping him hidden from us. Keeping her alive, until this is resolved.. will aid us."

Qorwyn's eyes leveled onto Heceril, he listened as Lorund continued. "We all felt that Heceril, should be the one to pass judgement... being that she is his wife and has betrayed him so deeply. However, the further that we are all involved... I feel that it may come to the point, where it would be better if it were decided by all. Of course, it should be voted upon when the time comes."

Heceril swallowed... he knew what that meant. Looking down at his hands, if his son was recovered... and he faltered in judging her harshly, to try and keep some form of love between them, they would step in and judge her for him. Even if it was against his wishes. The Dominion was now involved. They were spending resources... shipping an Elder... another council member and their assistants, to Skyrim. For an _unknown_ amount of time, to deal with this. Shipping Justiciars and soldiers there... solely to find _his_ son.

Even if he begged them not to... she would die in the end. And there wouldn't be a thing he could do about it. What chance would he ever have with Athell, once this was all over? Feeling his father's hand on his back... he had to focus on getting him back first. The rest, he could worry over later.

Even if Athell allowed himself to be carried away by his discontent... he was still being led down the wrong path, by his own mother and two lovers! And their involvement, was a crime against the Dominion! In fact... a crime against _any_ royal, noble or Elder, was a crime punishable by death.

IImion's eyes met his... just briefly, then moved away. Heceril stared ahead... her father knew what he was getting into when he made his plea to remain an Elder. Just like his daughter knew what she was doing, when she plotted against him. He would feel no pity for him!

"Agreed... " This rang throughout the room, as each Elder... each Council member... each Bosmer Chieftain, stated the same. "Agreed... "

The clerks, both writing busily on their logs of parchment, noting each one's response. Their eyes resting finally on Olquaril and his son... both without hesitation... "Agreed."

Qorwyn stood. "I do feel however... that the judgement passed down to the servants, should ultimately be Heceril's. I know it has been agreed upon, that the Bosmer be kept for the return of the Justiciars and their trial... the final judgement of Irinde as well. But the Altmer servants... is there really any reason to drag their judgement out any further? Their fate, should rest in his hands. The Bosmer's as well, when her time comes."

Looking at each one in turn. "I would have us cast a vote, at this time..."

"Agreed..."

Heceril held his smile, his anger... his rage... all coming back to the surface, as he heard each one's voice chime in with their answer. There would be justice! There would be retribution!

Qorwyn stared at him. "What is your choice, Heceril... at this time, for the Altmer servants."

Staring at the door to the cell that held them, his voice was low and even. "Execution..."

Qorwyn paused for the clerks.. "By what means, do you desire?"

"Beheading..." His father's hand rubbed slowly over his back... and from the corner of his eye, Heceril could see his smile. His father was pleased.

Qorwyn looked about the room. "Then, we are in agreement... Irinde and her servants will be called out... the servants will be given their sentence, in full view of Irinde. So that she may see and hear, what her choices and actions have caused. What they have inflicted upon the lives of others. At this time, I do not feel that Irinde should be questioned... as we are not apt to get the truth, we will simply be wasting more time."

Qorwyn's personal secretary rushed in, running to his side... whispering in his ear. He nodded, giving the Mer the okay to sit down in his place next to him.

"I have just been informed that the ship is ready to depart. Norilar... if you would care to take your leave, we have your vote."

Norilar stood and bowed to the court, on his way out he paused next to Heceril... bending down to speak low to him. "You may trust me, when I say this Heceril... I will not be returning, without your son!"

Their eyes met, as they took each other by the arm. Heceril's brow furrowed... he nodded to him. "Thank you! and I will be forever in your debt..."

Turning to the guards... Qorwyn waved his hand and took his seat.

**********

Olquaril watched IImion's face, as his daughter was brought out. His face, was that of stone... as his eyes took her in and followed her into the room. He would see once things began, if he was going to be able to keep it together. So far... he had done well. One thing he did know, no matter how well he held it together in here... at home, he would be fighting another battle.

Olquaril knew IImion's wife. He knew, she would never speak against her husband, she would follow him no matter what decision he made... but this was her daughter. He knew there would be a record amount of tension in their home over this. And someone, would be getting drunk tonight. He almost felt bad for them...

IImion's son and Irinde's younger brother, was a commander... he would literally _not,_ be involved in any of this. Of course he would be notified... but he was amazingly devoted to the Dominion. He would be siding with them... and thus, would agree with his father's decision to do what he now did.

Heceril took her in as she came out... one guard on each side of her. She looked completely bedraggled. Even though she was dressed decently... her hair was all askew, strands of it hanging in her face. Darkness, circled around both of her eyes... she looked like she had aged by years, in just the two days it had been.

Looking at her right then... she didn't even look like someone that he knew anymore. Just then, she looked up... her green eyes meeting his as the guards... one on each side of her, placed her into the chair. Even as they glared at each other, she was tearing up. Turning her head away from him... her brow knitting up, she wiped her eyes and stared ahead... she wouldn't meet her father's eyes. She knew why he had done what he did. And as much as it had pained them both... she understood.

She was now alone.

Her servants were being led out, and seated in the chairs across from her. They had been loyal... and they would be right to the very end. They all knew why Menel wasn't returned to their holding cell. They all knew, that she would betray them. Irinde tried to talk to them... make them understand... Menel had no choice. She knew the direction, that Olquaril and her husband would take. They would target the weakest first. And Menel had much more to lose than they did.

Of course, once they were all dead... would it really matter?

She also knew that two of her Altmer servants, had threatened Menel on the night Athell had left. While they had been packing... just seeing the look that the Bosmer had held... they knew what was going on in her head. She felt guilty, she was worried about Athell... but, she was also worried about what would happen when Heceril found out.

Irinde had stood out in the hallway, holding her finger to her lips, making sure the servant that was with her stayed quiet. They listened as the two in the room with her, both pulled her aside from what she was doing... confronting her over it. Whispering low to her. 'You had better remember where your true loyalties lie! We've been with _her,_ from the beginning! We don't belong to him! You remember Menel! And keep quiet! If you tell him, you _know_ what will happen!'

It had been right then, that she had come in to make sure that everything was packed. She hadn't needed to say anything to her... in fact, she hadn't even looked at her. She felt bad over what was said. Menel had always been a sweet Mer... a hard worker. Hence the reason her father had taken her on to be Irinde's personal servant.

She held an emotional attachment to all her servants. If she had looked at her... she would have shown her feelings. And that was something she could not do... not right then. Menel had to think that what they said was true. If they hadn't said what they'd said... and Menel didn't believe them, she would have run straight to him and told him everything! Her people were everything to her.

All of them... she and her servants, stared at the floor. None of them dared to look at each other, for fear that they would break.

Two guard remained nearby, just in case someone decided to attack out of fear... or attempt suicide. It had all been seen before. All precautions would be taken. Protecting the lives of the Council, was all that mattered!

Qorwyn folded his hands, leaning forward. "Irinde... "

Lifting her head, her eyes met his. "When you were arrested and brought here... the council advised you of what the charges were. Treason... against your husband. Treason, against the Aldmeri Dominion. Your persuasion of your son... a Mer, barely old enough to choose for himself! to leave his homeland, against your husband's knowledge and ultimately against his wishes! To a land, that we are going through great political strife with! You, in placing your own son in danger... the heir to our people's oldest bloodline, may I add. Have endangered the Aldmeri Dominion and her people! You not only hid this fact... but devised a plan that involved servants, that were bound to Heceril Aldmeri... along with a highly decorated Thalmor officer and a senior Thalmor Wizard! You refused to aid your husband, in his son's recovery... you refused to answer your own father, when he asked regarding his own grandchild's whereabouts!"

Sitting straight in her chair... tears ran down her face as she listened to him. Her servants stared into their laps... hands folded perfectly. They knew what was coming... she had prepared them as best she could for this.

Pausing to take a drink of his wine... allowing the clerks to both catch up. "The evidence against you is overwhelming. We not only received a full testimony, from one of your own and might I add... one of Heceril Aldmeri's servants... but a list of others as well. I will read them off... "

Clearing his throat. "The soldiers, that were called to break in Athelleen's bedchamber door. The carriage driver that transported the shipment of items packed and removed from your home. Numerous carriage drivers... including those, that dropped off the two Thalmor in question, at the cabin owned by your family. Your father... IImion, one of our own Elders has testified against you! The words that have come from your own lips, before your own parents, now condemn you!"

He looked down at her... "We had agreed, that we would not question you, as you have not been honest to anyone thus far, we would expect no honesty from you now... but, I will ask. How do you plea?"

Wiping the tears from her eyes, forcing the quiver in her chin to halt... "Guilty."

Every mouth in the room fell open! Heads were turning... muffled whispers were heard. Heceril leaned forward, his eyes flashing between her and Qorwyn!

Qorwyn raised a hand... quieting the members, as Lorund shot him a look before he asked... "So... you can tell us then? where Athelleen is?"

Shaking her head... "No! I cannot. I do not know!"

Qorwyn glared at her. "It is apparent to all present, that you care _not,_ for the well being of your son and heir! You care _not,_ for the servants, that were in your charge, and bound to you! Bound to your husband! Did you _not,_ tell your servants... servants that were bound under your husband's employ! To deceive him! To keep information from him, regarding the whereabouts of your son! Did you _not,_ advise your Altmer servants, to force your Bosmer servant into silence, by threatening the safety of her family in Valenwood!"

Standing up from her chair... gasps, were heard throughout the room! The guards moved closer, waiting for a sign from the Elders. Raising her head up defiantly, "As for my servants... I forced them to do all that they did! Their punishment, should fall to me!"

Her servants cried out! Looking up at her... raising their hands up to her in plea! Tears, ran down their cheeks! The guards moving a little closer... she ignored them all. "As for my son... it is because I care for him so, that I have done all that I did! I do not know of his whereabouts! And if I did... I would never tell! His father is a monster! As are all of you!"

Loud murmurs ran through the room! Council members... Elders... all stood up! Heceril and his father remained seated... as did her father.

Heceril could have laughed... unbelievable! Her fate was no longer going to be a concern. He would have his son... it would work out. He would make sure of it! Either way, she would be executed once it was all said and done. And once she was out of the way, they could live as they wanted... the way Athell had always wanted. All that she had done now, was condemn herself further. Admitting guilt... refusing to cooperate. Vocally going against the Dominion... the Thalmor! Everything in him, fought against the smile that was forming at the corners of his lips. Leaning back in his chair, he folded his arms.

Qorwyn and Lorund, both stood. Raising his hands, to quiet them all once more... "You have proven yourself, a traitor! However... Irinde, you shall not be sentenced today. You will be held, until your son is recovered and returned to his people... his homeland. You will await that day in your cell and then, will stand trial, alongside the two Thalmor that turned against us, when they aided your son."

Two guard, walked to each side of her... each taking an arm. "Your servants however, will be punished! As they are guilty of the most heinous of crimes against their master! Rendering them useless to any, that would dare offer them employment... rendering them useless to the Aldmeri people! They are traitors... just as you are!" Nodding to the guards... each one, taking hold of a servant, turning them toward the holding cells.

Irinde wiped furiously at her face... trying not to watch, as they were being led away. "Your punishment for their crimes... will be to watch, as they are executed!" She could hear the girls sobs ringing throughout the large room.

Motioning to her guards. "Take her to my chambers... I wish to have one last word, before she is locked up for the night."

Looking over to his secretary... "The executions, will be day after tomorrow... at dawn. To take place in the prison courtyard. Make the preparations..."

Moving through the crowd of council members... he walked toward Olquaril, extending his hand to him first... then to Heceril. "Things are underway... we may discuss it further over dinner, tomorrow night? I will see you both then."

**********

Walking into his chambers, he closed the door behind him and walked to his desk. The guards held her by the arms. Her face, wet from her tears, she stared down at the floor. Turning his back to them, he opened a bottle of wine and poured himself a glass.

Speaking to her, as he poured. "Monsters... _really_ Irinde? I would have expected better, coming from someone of your lineage... someone that has been married to Heceril, as long as you have."

Turning to her... glass in hand, he sipped. "You had a good marriage... what on all of Nirn, was so bad about an arranged marriage, that it would cause you to go to such lengths... to go against your own people? I have to know."

He pulled the tie from his hair, running a hand through it, taking another sip. He watched her face, as she stared at him... "His father drove me to it. He knew that Athell could never abide by the arrangement. He began to be physically cruel to him... their fights became horrendous." She attempted to step forward... pleading with him. The guards hold tightening, stilling her.

Swallowing, she took in a deep breath. "Qorwyn... I know, that there is no hope for me... but you have sons... please, put yourself in my position. As a father... if there is any good in you at all, you will not bring him back here! I beg you! Heceril was killing him! He will be the death of Athell!"

Taking another drink... he looked so at ease, she may as well have not even spoken. He set the glass down. Yes... he was a father. He was a good one! He also agreed wholeheartedly, with Heceril and his father!

"Let me be the one to inform you..." his face, broke into the most wicked grin... "And I will take great pleasure in this... I assure you."

Leaning his backside against his desk, he folded his arms. "I sincerely believe, Irinde... that you have no idea, just how close, your husband and your son are. I grew up with Olquaril... our families are very... very close! I can guarantee you, that your son's refusal to marry, is a direct result of their close relationship."

A look of pure bewilderment, came over her, as she slowly shook her head... "No... you... you don't understand! You..."

Qorwyn leaned down, into her face. Tilting his head... his smile widened, watching with amusement, as her eyes grew larger and larger, with every word he spoke! "Their fights, were mere lover's quarrels. I am more than positive, that had you left well enough alone... your husband and your son, would have eventually worked things out, all on their own..."

She gasped! Recoiling from his words, her hands going up to cover her mouth, as it fell open! Attempting to back away from him, the guards held her arms that much tighter!

Pushing away from his desk, he continued... "As it is... now, not only is your own son's life at risk... the very bloodline of our beloved Dominion... but, we face the loss of two of our most decorated! Do you know, what Ulfric would do to him... if he were able to get hold of him! Irinde!"

The last place, he wanted to send, not one... but two of their Council members, was that despicable place! The amount her decisions was costing them, was already great! But, what it could cost them... he didn't want to think about it. But being in his position, he had no choice.

Blowing out a sharp breath, he sneered down at her... "You had better pray, that we are able to find him, _before_ he falls into the wrong hands! Or his unhappiness, over an arranged marriage, will be the least of his and your worries!"

The guard's hold on her intensified, digging into her arms, as he walked towards her... his eyes narrowed to amber slits, as he lowered down into her face once more. "What you _and_ his lovers have done... is dropped him, right into the lion's den!"

She gaped up at him... tears rolled down her face... her body shaking. He straightened, running his hands over his robes, glaring at her. "You were all fools! There will not be an ounce of leniency shown, to any of you! _Not one ounce!"_

Waiving his hand to them, "Take her away!"

Going back around his desk, he refilled his glass and began to remove his robes. Thinking over what he'd just said to her. Their greatest fear, was that Athell fall into enemy hands... and they find out, who he really was.

He had not only spoken of it to Olquaril and his son... but with all the other Council members as well. They could never allow something of that nature, to befall one of their royals. They refused to be made vulnerable! And that's what they were now... vulnerable. Unless they could find him fast! Quickly and quietly... that was key now! Tipping back his glass... he downed it.

She was a fool!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Everything you are finding out here, will be touched on later. No mistake... she really didn't know.


	19. Longing To Feel...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sitting in the steaming water... the more he watched him, the more concerned he became. Staring straight ahead, with a pained look on his face... Olquaril had finally had enough.
> 
> Turning to him, he set down his goblet. "Heceril... please talk to me. Why do..."
> 
> "Do you love me?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The next one, will be a mix and then skipping to Skyrim. I do realize, that it would normally take weeks to travel by sailing vessel but I'm impatient, so I don't intend on waiting. There will be some chapters that are all Skyrim and some that are a mix. Most of the action from here on out will be taking place in Skyrim. But that also includes the Mer he's involved with.

**********

The ride back to his father's estate was completely silent.

With everything that had happened in the span of just one day, he felt completely overwhelmed, emotionally and mentally. He wanted strong drink, possibly some smoke, and... he wanted sex.

No... he _needed_ it.

He knew his father was dealing with the same things as he was, but even with that he kept looking over at him. As if in wonder... in worry.

That alone bothered Heceril. He didn't want his father to worry. He didn't know exactly what was going through his mind, but from what had been said the other night as they soaked, it was more than likely along the same lines.

He had never asked his father about his relationship with his grandfather. Not once. He had always just guessed at it. Figuring that there was a good reason that he had never mentioned it. Heceril knew, that his grandfather knew of their intimacy. Just as his grandfather, knew Heceril was aware of their's.

He had never seen his father and grandfather be intimate towards one another. Of course, they showed affection toward each other, but it was different than actual intimacy.

The only time his grandfather had spoken of it to him, he had said that intimacy between their males, was a very private thing. And was to never be spoken of in the presence of a female. Ever!

Laying together at the same vacation home, that had been handed down to him. Where he and Athell had spent so much time. Listening to the waves as they broke shore, the breeze blowing the sheer curtains back.... he had clung to him.

An arm and leg, laying draped across his father's larger body. He remembered... he had been just eighteen. He had gotten interested in some of the females that accompanied he and his friends to gatherings and social functions.

Whispering against his father's shoulder... "Will you be angry with me, if I date... if I want to be with someone else?"

Remembering it now like it was just yesterday, his father had opened his eyes and turned to him. The look on his face had been such a mix of emotion.

It had always amazed him, how their time together was the only time, when he didn't feel worried over making sure that his father was proud of him. He had never had to worry over their personal time together. It was easy... like fluid they moved together, reacted to one another.

Like it was meant to be. It was as if during those times... they were in tune with one another on a different level.

His father's hand raising up to stroke his hair. "Heceril... you will never have to worry over that. That is the way it should be. Our time is just for us... it is not meant to hamper your life. It was always meant to bring us closer. And... to ready you, for when you had your own mate."

Heceril also knew, that it was to keep their males from taking lovers too soon, and creating unwanted offspring. Their bloodlines were important to them! Urges were a normal thing. However... if one was too free with them it could cause ruin, to not just the male's family... but the female's as well.

Females of royal or noble blood, were to be pure for the night of their wedding. But that didn't keep the females from seeking their own release. There were other ways of getting it, that didn't involve penetration that would damage their maidenhead.

Almost all of the females he knew, had been involved with other females or other males. Doing everything _but that one thing..._

Heceril also knew that the father/son relations that had happened throughout their bloodline, was to give just a taste of male/male, to those that relished it. It was to broaden ones knowledge of physical pleasures. It also created an unbreakable bond, between the patriarchs and their sons.

He also knew that their's was not the only bloodline, that partook in these types of relationships. In fact... many of the royal bloodlines did. It was kept between the families. And almost one hundred percent of the females, had no knowledge whatsoever of it.

The closeness the father's had with their sons... was seen as bonding time. The females did not question it.

Heceril had never felt that he was betraying his mother. Their relationship was never meant as a replacement to his father's love for his mother. In fact... Olquaril had told him. He would always love his mother, and he would always want her.

This was different. It was separate. It gave them the pleasure of both, without seeking someone outside of the family, they did not see it as infidelity.

His love for his son... was his love for his son. And his love for his wife, was his love for her. It was simple. And why make something that was simple, difficult.

But that day... the day he had broached this with him... it didn't feel simple. Not to him. He had never looked at another male, they way he looked at his father. The thought of being with another male, held absolutely no interest to him.

Shaking his head... seeing the events of his past, his vision faded out. For some reason, just the look on his father's face, as he had lay there... was like he was going to be losing something. Seeing him look that way, had made him so emotional.

Sitting in the carriage... his hand slowly went to his chest... almost as if he could still feel the tightening in it, that he had felt that day. It was like they were both losing something.

He had held onto him tighter, warmth spreading through his face, making his eyes tear up. "I would never want to hurt you father... "

Olquaril had whispered against his head... "I will never be hurt, by you wanting another. It is females that you are referring to... am I right?"

Just remembering the words his father had spoken... his mouth dropped... his eyes, widening. The revelation hitting him like a ton of stone! Now... he knew. His father... _his father,_ had gone through the same worries... the same fears and feelings. He had just kept it to himself! Suffering alone.

Athell on the other hand, had asked him plenty. From the time when their own relationship began, he had been very curious. Of course, he had moved things along slower with Athell, than his father had with him.

And there had been good reason.

So many nights they had lay talking. He had told him of the first time that he had been with his father fully. And of course because he hadn't taken Athell yet, he had wanted to know why. Almost to the point of demanding!

Just remembering how he looked then... so young, and so in love with him. The most beautiful, perfect young Mer. They had lay together after loving each other... sipping on wine and just holding each other. His soft voice, almost like a song.

"You were younger than I am now father. Why will you not make love to me?"

Heceril hadn't even been able to look at his face, for fear that he would give under the weight of his stare. Holding his head... he'd had to close his eyes. "I am not yet ready, to have you in that way Athell... "

Athell had pulled away from him! Sitting up on his elbow, forcing him to meet his gaze! "But I am! I am ready... I want you!"

That was exactly why Heceril had waited so long. He knew the love Athell had for him, was far too great. And his own love, was already out of control... and deepening their relationship, was just going to compound everything!

He did want him! He was ready! If anything, it had been just as hard on him, as it had been on Athell.

It had confused him. He could see that now... that he had never felt the need to be with another male, other than his father. Until he and Athell began to be intimate. And for a long time, even as their relationship grew... he fought it.

Not hard enough though... for every time they were together, he gladly gave in to it! Every time they were alone.

He remembered how his father had raised him. As a child, he was his child. There had never been anything sexually intimate, until he was ready. Until he had gotten of an age, where he was changing... becoming curious of his own body... his own sexuality. When he had started to have needs and desires... urges.

Like most of their males, they had always bathed together. They were accustomed to seeing each other's bodies. Their people never saw their nakedness, as being indecent or improper. As long as it was in private... it was natural. Their males and females, had always indulged in spas and steam baths... warm springs, what have you. Where there were multiple Mer, together and nude.

Of course, these were all one sex. Any gatherings of mixed sexes, were kept very private. Or gatherings, where sexual activity would take place.

His father had always been affectionate with him. Heceril had always felt easy, about touching him... showing him affection. And when he had gotten to an age, where the urge to touch him in that way became overwhelming... Heceril gave into it. And his father allowed him.

From that point on... they had been intimate. It grew and grew, until Heceril was ready for them to make love. Nothing they did, was ever pushed or forced... it became something as natural as breathing.

With Athell... it seemed to be too easy.

**********

The carriage had stopped... they sat there, in front of the Estate. The fact that they were sitting still, hadn't even registered to his son. He was gone in his thoughts... his eyes far away. Reaching out to him, he placed a hand on his shoulder, whispering. "Heceril... son... we have arrived."

After a moment, he seemed to come back. Looking over to him. "Forgive me.. I was lost in thought. May we soak before we dine?" Looking away, he let out a deep breath. "I fear I need it..."

Olquaril simply nodded, getting out, he waited for him. Their meal was being prepared, letting his servants know that they would be eating outside by the spas.

Sitting in the steaming water, the more he watched him, the more concerned he became. Staring straight ahead, with such a pained look on his face... Olquaril had finally had enough! Turning to him, he set down his goblet. "Heceril... please talk to me. Why do..."

"Do you love me?"

Heceril's words, stopped him dead. Moving around in front of him, he raised a hand to his son's face. "Of course I do! How can you ask me that? How can you not know!"

Tears, finally spilling over... he swallowed. Fighting to keep the tremor in his voice from taking over. "Are you... in love with me?"

Taking him by the shoulders, Olquaril pulled him into an embrace. "You have always been so afraid of disappointing me, please stop your worrying and let your feelings out."

Simply feeling his son's body, rock against his as he wept... took him back. Holding him, he waited until he calmed and was once again resting on the stone seat. Climbing out, he opened the jar of Sujamma, pouring them both a glass.

Wiping his eyes, he laughed as his father walked down the steps into the spa, holding their drinks. "You felt I needed something that strong, did you?"

Handing him his glass, they briefly touched them together before taking a drink. "I did indeed... we both need it."

Holding onto his glass, he turned so he could face him. "To answer your question Heceril... I have always been in love with you."

Taking another drink, he set the half empty glass down, and listened to his father. "When I told you the other night, that I had my struggles with you as well... they were not struggles that _you_ had in moving away from our relationship. They were mine."

Heceril shook his head, "No father, they were not just yours... I struggled with fear that I would be hurting you. I never wanted any other, until Athell became mine. No other males... but, when I wanted females."

Tilting his head as he looked at him. "I was so afraid, that you would be lonely. I knew, what our relationship meant to you... to us. I could see it in your face, that day when we spoke about it. How could you keep your pain from me?"

Downing his sujamma, he set the glass down. "Heceril... I kept my pain to myself, because that is what I needed to do. You needing to be with females, was normal. It was what you needed to grow. And yes, I was lonely at times for you. But I filled that loneliness with your mother's company. And...there were times, when I sought out another for male companionship..."

Turning to him fully, his eyes wide. Feeling the heat, in his ears from the drink. "I knew that you had! I could feel it! Tell me... please, who?"

Olquaril laughed, bending back to dip his hair. Getting it wet, he righted and sat back down next to him. "Let me tell you... your grandfather had problems with me, not wanting to let go of him."

Heceril's mouth dropped. "Is that why, you never spoke of your relationship? You were worried over me, weren't you."

Nodding, "Yes... I was. I didn't want you to go through what _I_ did. And I did _not_ want to go through, what I put your grandfather through. Luckily, I didn't want other males... I just wanted _him_. That, is the reason we had you so late in life."

Getting out momentarily to grab the jar of liquor, Olquaril stepped back into the springs, and filled their glasses. Instantly taking his, he tipped it back and drank. Heceril's eyes wide, he watched him in shock, as he set the empty glass down.

"I waited to see what I would be dealing with over you... and once you told me that you wanted to be with females, I realized that I had nothing to fear. But my own pain of course."

Licking his lips, he slowly shook his head. "Even though I never wanted other males... I was in love with your grandfather. I would have been with only him, if he had let me! But... seeing how strong my love was becoming and fearing his own weakness for me, would make him weak in what he must do... he sent me away to school. He told me, 'That I must move away from our relationship, in order to form one with another.' I had to eventually marry and have a child."

Looking over at his son, "Of course, this did not happen suddenly. I fought him over it for several years. I was nineteen and had yet to even seek out a female, let alone be interested in one. Though I wasn't interested in other males really either. I just wanted him and was content with that. He finally became so distraught over it, that he literally cut me off from our relationship and forced me away!"

Finally taking another drink of his own, Heceril would have never believed what he was hearing, had he not heard it from his own father's lips. "What did you do?"

Olquaril leaned his head back, staring up into the darkening sky. "Of course... I was heartbroken at first. I wept constantly. I became distant for awhile and my mother worried. He would come to me and comfort me, but there would be no intimacy! He would tell me, that he loved me dearly. But what he was doing, was right! And that he would allow us to resume our intimacy, once I had a grasp on my life and was well placed in a solid relationship with my would-be mate!"

Heceril fought his smile... he could see his grandfather doing just that! He was such a powerful Mer, he simply couldn't imagine his father fighting with him.

"For awhile I rebelled... I was stubborn. But, at the school of the arts he sent me to, I realized that I was not alone. Qorwyn was also there."

Heceril choked on his drink, wiping his mouth! "Qorwyn!" His eyes were glued to his father!

Olquaril just nodded. "He was going through the very same thing with his own father and was sent away as well, to give them both distance. We had of course, known each other our entire lives... our families as you know, are very close. But, for a time then... and periodically over the years... when his sons and yourself, have been distant. We have taken comfort from each other."

He could see, just by the glaze on his father's eyes, he was already feeling better from the drink. Thus, allowing him to spill so much about his own past.

"Please, do not get me wrong. I love your mother dearly. But it took me longer to find her and to be ready to be with a female, than it did others. I still crave her company... and I always will. But there are times, when I crave yours as well. Those times, when I cannot have you... I am with my old friend."

Olquaril looked down into the water... "I always wondered over my father's feelings, just as you wondered over mine... and I over yours."

Leaning his head back, his brow knitting up, he raised a hand to wipe an errant tear away. "On his death bed... I sat beside him, holding his hand."

His breath caught, as a quiet sob escaped his lips. "He wept... and told me, that he loved me so. That... forcing me away, was the hardest thing he had ever done. But... he knew that it was right. That I would know what i had to do with you, when the time came. He told me, that he had been in love with me. I... like his wife and his people... would always be, one of his greatest loves."

Heceril's hand came up to his father's face, wiping his tears. "I wish I had told you now... but... I fear that it wouldn't have made a difference with Athelleen. He is different."

Taking one of his son's hands... he held it, their eyes meeting. "You are in love with him, aren't you... and he, with you! Him wanting only males, has made this just that much harder on you both, hasn't it!"

Heceril looked away... he didn't want to face him! Even after hearing of his own struggles. His father's hand came to his chin... pushing his face back up. "I am right... aren't I. You trying to do the right thing with him, has caused this. Because Athelleen would never be able to be with a female... he sought out other males, because you were pushing for the marriage! And her knowing he couldn't handle a marriage to a female, pushed her to push him! She just didn't know that it was _you_ , that he was in love with... that it was _you_ and not this other Mer, that he told her about!"

Heceril grasped his hand! "I tried to do the right thing! I did!" Tears streamed down his face! "Nothing that I did worked... and the thought... _the thought_ of him with another male, drove me insane! I could have dealt with him being with a female... but, to have another male touching him!" He shook his head, Olquaril pulled him close... holding him.

He whispered into his ear. "Does Irinde know of your relationship with him?"

Heceril pulled back, just enough to wipe his face. "No. She knows of our fights... she thought to help him escape not only the marriage, but our arguments as well. When we would have survived those! we were still intimate through all of them. I was even toying with the idea of trying to have another child... but, that is no longer an option."

They could hear his father's servants, as they came closer.

Stepping out of the water, wrapping towels around themselves, they sat at a small table. Torches and lanterns were lit around the water as they were served.

Taking his glass, he emptied it... setting it down, his father pouring them more. Gods... they would be drunk by the time they finished eating.

The strong liquor finally easing him enough to relieve the pain in his chest. Even with the fact that his father now knew... he knew about their love. He knew how Heceril felt. It didn't really change anything... Athell was still gone. They still had to find him. Nothing would ever be the same... but getting it out, he did feel better.

"Has there ever been another in our bloodline like Athell? One that preferred males over all?"

Stabbing a piece of seared fish with his fork, "Your grandfather told me of one."

Taking a bite, he talked around his food. This was his son after all, he could let propriety slide a little. "He had a wife at one home... and a husband at another. He laid with her, just enough to get her pregnant. Then, once he was weaned, he took over the rearing of his son, and left her with the daughter. It was one of the sets of twins, that our family has been so blessed with. Of course, he was close with his daughter as well, but... not like his son. His son, eventually married and had children of his own. Your ancestor was quite open about his preference, from what your grandfather told me."

Swallowing, he momentarily stared down into his plate. "I fear that Athell will not lay with one, not even enough to get her with child. What am I to do? I cannot force him! As we can see... that has failed."

"Elanin will marry... she has chosen a pure bloodline and hopefully will produce twins. They will carry our name, our blood."

Heceril watched him, lifting his glass to take a drink. "I know father, that not _all_ of us, have been blessed with sons. How did this get carried on from generation to generation, if there was no son? Where did it all begin?"

Olquaril set his plate aside and filled his glass once more. "It started when our people started... all of the males know of it. Almost _all_ practice it. The ones that have no male child, will see other males when they have the desire.  But that has almost always been kept within the families. Very rarely, is an outsider sought out for pleasure.  Unless it is a case like mine and Qorwyn's. Other families are not always as strict as ours... some literally choose not to marry at all, or bind themselves to a male, and their family allows it. Perhaps they feel that they have enough offspring to carry on the bloodline, and that it isn't necessary to force marriage onto a family member that doesn't wish it."

Lifting his glass to take a drink. "You know of the reasons I've told you, the reasons that are common sense. Release... escape from unwanted offspring... exceptional closeness and bond between the males, preparation for marriage."

Setting down his glass, his green eyes leveled onto his son. "One of the main reasons it started, my great grandfather told me... was this. He asked me one night, when we were gathered around a fire... and I had asked him the very same thing. I was all but sixteen, but had been intimate with my own father for three years. And he knew of our bond! How strong it was! He knew and my grandfather knew, how much I loved my father!"

"My father and his father, sat there listening to him, taking in my reaction... he said. 'Olquaril... would you fight for your father?'

Heceril sat back, his eyes wide as he listened. His father's eyes grew bright with a fierceness, as he recalled the past! "I was adamant... sitting straight up! I said, 'Of course I would!' With four generations of our males sitting there, all of them connected by not only blood... but intimacy! And my great grandfather leaned ever closer... 'Would you fight for a lover?' Again... I put my hand over my heart, staring him in the eye. 'Of course... yes! With my life!'

Olquaril leaned toward his son... his eyes narrowed. "Then he pointed at me! And he said... 'What if your father... is that lover?' Then, I understood!"

Heceril's eyes grew... his mouth dropped, as he listened to him. "I told my great grandfather... 'I would become anything! do anything! to defend... to protect, what I held so dear!' That, Heceril... is why this is carried on, passed down from generation to generation. Even if there is no male born to a couple, any male that enters the family will have been in that same relationship, and _he_ will carry it on."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Little bit of insight into the incestuous relationships, there will be more to come on that as it will play a huge role throughout.


	20. The One That Completes Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For a moment he felt guilty. But just for a moment. Then... he gave into it. He let it go. The male that rode him, was not his father... but, his beautiful son. The length, that slid slowly in and out of him, just a touch longer... just a touch wider in it's girth.
> 
> He closed his eyes, allowing his senses to take over. Feeling the length leave him, as it pulled all the way out. Such a tease... allowing the weeping head, to dance over his sensitive hole. His mouth fell open... holding his legs back to his chest, rocking his ass back and forth... aiding his tormentor in his own sensuous torture.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The next one will be all Skyrim.

************

For a moment he felt guilty. But just for a moment. Then... he gave into it. He let it go. The male that rode him was not his father, but his beautiful son. The length that slid slowly in and out of him, just a touch longer... just a touch wider in it's girth.

He closed his eyes, allowing his senses to take over. Feeling the length leave him as it pulled all the way out. Such a tease... allowing the weeping head to dance over his sensitive hole. His mouth fell open, holding his legs back to his chest, rocking his ass back and forth, aiding his tormentor in his own sensuous torture.

The head just pushing in, then pulling out, rubbing over him. As if showing him who had control, who had the power to please him. That it would be done in his lover's own time and not a second sooner.

Pushing all the way in, grinding into him, then pulling back out to once again slide over him. Bringing him so close to the edge... then backing off.

He cried out, panting and reaching for the thing he wanted... only to have his hand swatted away.

But his son had never been such a tease. Taking him, allowing himself to be taken. Sly and sneaky about his teasing... but not a tease to this extent. No, this was someone else... this was his mentor... his teacher. His first love.

Opening his eyes, seeing him... his heart felt the pangs of love that he had felt in his youth. The love that had deepened over the years, even as his father aged. He was still so attractive to him, still just as sexy.

But the one he really longed for at this moment, was gone... closing his eyes, he allowed his father to pull out. What he wanted... what he needed, was to be taken. Taken from behind.

Where he didn't have to worry over whether or not his eyes were closed! Who it was, that he was imagining was his partner. He wanted to be taken!

He wanted to be ridden hard!

Turning over, he got onto his hands and knees. Reaching his hand underneath him, running it over his oil slicked hole... he threw his head back. His white hair, flowing down his back... closing his eyes as he felt his father's cock line up with him. Running the swollen head over his opening... he gasped as it breached him.

Wiggling his backside, he panted... his back arching... he whined out! "Fuck me... I need you so bad! Please... just fuck me!"

Qlquaril literally growled! Climbing up over his ass, almost to the point where he could've sat on him! He reached up, grabbing a handful of his son's hair and pulled!

Heceril's head was forced back! His father's legs were straddled over his hips, as his entire length sank deep into him.

Gods! All he could feel was cock! So deep inside, his father ground into him. His tight balls caressing his ass! That's what he wanted! That's what he wanted to feel! "Yes!... Fuck! Oh Gods! Yes..."

Pushing his ass back into his father... swaying and rocking... anything to get him deeper inside.

Olquaril panted like an animal! One hand running down his son's back, sliding over toned muscle. He wanted to take in every inch! Pulling out, he slammed back in! Each connection was left with a slap of their skin... grinding into him. Just the feeling of them where they were connected, striking against his sac, was enough to send him over the fucking edge!

Leaning over him, he released his hair, putting a forearm around the front of him. Each thrust becoming more and more erratic.

His free hand moving to his son's untouched, golden cock. Wrapping his long, slender fingers around it... feeling his seed as it leaked over them... he squeezed. Whispering into his ear, as he ground into his thrust. "Cum for me... "

Heceril's head pushed back against his father's shoulder. He couldn't open his eyes, his mouth falling open. Whispered breath against his ear, bringing back so many wonderful memories. So many shared nights! Au-Riel!

The hand stroking him tightened, his father's balls slapped against him... sticky... wet. His hole was leaking his father's spent seed. Feeling it run down his own, he gave... crying out! Spilling into his father's hand as it held him.

************

A whispered voice against his ear. "We will be into port by morning..."

Athell's eyes snapped open. That all too familiar pain, creeping up into his chest... circling around his heart. Instantly, just as he had done every day during their journey, he consciously forced away all of the horrible thoughts that had plagued his mind.

He missed his mother... he missed his sister... and he missed Ondolemar. The pain from that was bearable. What wasn't, was who he missed and longed for most... his father.

Dreams of them together, had tortured him nightly. Their time together while he was young... the time they had later, when they had become intimate. Then as full lovers.

Their fights... arguments... then making up after. The day his father had found out that he had been with another.

His time with Ondolemar had been so special to him. He had waited so, so long. His father just wouldn't... finally, he could wait no more. He loved Ondolemar... he wanted to be with him. Only because he knew deep down that his father could never give him what he truly needed. It had been so unfair for him to expect it. But, he loved him so.

The love he held for his father, would never be matched. Ever.

Different than the love he held for Ancano. The love he held for him, was that of an intimate friend... a mentor. The love he held for Ondolemar, was that of a friend and a mate. A confidant... if only he could share everything with him. But, he doubted their love would support such a secret as this. No... he couldn't burden him with that.

The love he held for his father, was on such a personal level. He doubted his capacity to describe it. They were one on a singular level. A lover that knew him in every way possible. Someone, that he would kill for... die for.

His father had just never been able to accept the fact, that he loved _him_ in the same manner. When they weren't making love, he fought how he felt. Athell could literally see it. And he knew it would never change. He couldn't replace his mother... that was wrong. He never wanted to hurt her... but his love for his father, had reached a point where it refused to stay hidden. He'd had to take steps. And he had...

Finally... when he knew that his father would be all day long at the Thalmor celebration. He had asked Ondolemar to bow out... make an excuse, so they could be alone. He was ready... he had to have him. Not only to further their relationship... but, he knew once the deed was done, his father could finally have him in the way that he had been putting off.

Putting off because he knew, once they did that one thing... there was no reason not to go on with their relationship! That is why he'd held off so long! He was afraid...

When his grandfather had him fully at all but fifteen. Athell was a whole four years senior to that! and yet he was still making excuses! When he'd had three and four fingers plunged inside of him... pushing on that oh, so wonderful spot, until Athell would explode! And his father would lap up his seed, like a creature in the wilds... starving!

It hadn't even been painful... Ondolemar, had even made comment over it. That he had never seen someone pure, be taken so easily. What he had forgotten, on purpose of course... was the love marks that Ondolemar had left him peppered with. He couldn't stop him... there was no good reason he could give, that he shouldn't do it! His lover had no idea that anyone else would be seeing him bare.

He had felt horrible! He had suffered greatly over those three days, just like he knew his father was! Constantly seeing his pained expression in his mind... hearing his sobs... his voice, as he'd asked him 'Why?' over and over. 'How? How, could you do this to me?'

He'd had no other choice! Numerous times, he had tried to slip his father's cock inside of him as they frolicked together. His father would jerk away, getting angry! After just several times of it ruining their private time together... he gave up.

He had literally pushed Ondolemar into sex. Of course the Mer wanted him, but he was afraid of rushing. Athell on the other hand, had waited long enough!

Then... he was ready to have them both! His father would see! That he could be with males, and it would not hamper their relationship in any way! But that hadn't worked.

The pain of his father pushing him away, toward a marriage that he couldn't tolerate. It wouldn't have been fair to her... it wouldn't have been fair to their children. She deserved a husband... a mate that loved her. And their children, they would have deserved a father that was ready to have them! Not someone that wasn't ready for any of it... that was incapable, of giving any of them what they needed!

His sister wanted to get married! She wanted children!

Over and over, he had tried to explain that to him! He couldn't pretend to care about someone! For the love of Au-riel! Their ancestor Queen Ayrenn, had children... those children went on to help their bloodline form into what it was today! Why on all of Nirn! Did _he_ have to sire children! When his sister, would more than likely have twins of her own!

Nothing worked... his father was bent on this ridiculous family tradition! No male, could go without having a child!

And now... now, he had sucked everyone he loved, into this... this plethora of horrid mistakes... poorly made decisions, all based on pain and anger... regrets!

So many times, he had thought that he should have just gone through with it... but he couldn't! He just couldn't! This was the only way for freedom. The only thing that would make his father see, just how serious he was! Staying was killing him... the fact that his father was forcing him to be with someone else! At first, it had felt like he didn't want him... like he didn't really love him. When he knew that just wasn't true!

His father was doing what he felt he had to do, based solely on expectations. Not only from his own father... but who they were! Then after they had become full lovers, the fact that he still hadn't faltered in his demands, it had been so painful.

Now leaving... knowing, that he would probably never see him again... he felt like a part of him was dying. Slowly... an agonizing death. Part of him wondered just how far his father would go to find him, to bring him back!

That thought terrified him.

His mind coming back... holding tighter onto Ancano's hand. "What will we do when we dock?"

His elder's arm circled around him tighter. He purred into his ear. "I will sneak you off ship, the same way we came on. I will go up to Solitude, as the Ambassador will be expecting my arrival. I will see Ondolemar there, and will tell him that all went well. We will receive our orders and go our separate ways. You, will take the carriage to Winterhold. And from there you will go up to the college, and join with the coin I have given you. We won't be seen together and you will arrive several days prior to my coming."

Athell swallowed. Just thinking about it, his breathing increased. Traveling alone... in a place where he had never been. A place filled with enemies "I... I will have to travel alone?"

Sitting up on his elbow, Ancano looked into his eyes. "You have nothing to fear. You are skilled in magic Athell. I have taught you well, and we have gone over all manner of possible foes. It is only two or three days journey to Winterhold, you will be fine... I assure you."

Taking a deep breath, he nodded as Ancano turned down the lantern and settled in next to him once more. They had decided to abstain... an agreement, if you will. After making love several times... both his, and his mentor's guilt, had become too much to bear. Even though they would be at the college together... they couldn't risk being too friendly, lest someone suspect Athell of being a spy.

Ancano had told him. He would be working... on duty at all hours of the day and night. He would have very little leisure time. And then, they also had to consider that eventually, there would more than likely be a search taking place for him.

He had never seen Ancano on duty. But he had been told, he may not like it. Ancano transformed into someone else, when he was on active duty. He had a job to do... and nothing, would deter him!

Even with all of that... he lay there thinking. Thinking over the fact, that his only friend at the college... his only glimpse of home... would be just a touch away... and he would be unable. Forbidden.

Running his fingers over the arm around him... slowly, he rocked his bottom back and forth. The Mer behind him, remained silent... but his breathing sped. Moving his hand to the long leg behind his... he caressed over the warm, golden flesh. He could feel, Ancano's hardening length, as it pressed into his backside.

Lips, brushing against the shell of his ear... he whispered into the darkness. "Make love to me... one last time..."


	21. Separate Ways

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Not once, did he look at him as they walked. "We must control ourselves prior to seeing Elenwen. When the time comes... I will stick to our story. Will you?"
> 
> Ancano nodded. "I will..."

***********

Completely silent... completely invisible... he walked away from the docks. Ancano had stayed behind to meet up with Ondolemar, as his ship was still unloading. They would walk up to the city together.

He wouldn't even be able to see him. And perhaps that was a good thing.

His heart ached. Not just from his absence... but from guilt. To the point that he wept... he wept and his stomach churned.

Did he have any right to hurt over his absence? No! His ass was still wet from Ancano's seed! What hadn't leaked out during their lovemaking session, he was still carrying up inside of him!

Every excuse for it, ran through his head and with each one that he even considered, he felt like more and more of a wretch!

By the time he had gotten up to the carriage, the spells had worn off. With the way he had approached the driver, he wouldn't have known what direction he had really come from. His hood was up, concealing his face just enough to not be seen well. Even if he had, Ancano had reapplied his makeup so he wouldn't be recognized.

Looking up at the Nord. "How much to Winterhold?"

The driver looked down at him. His thick, Nord accent sounding so foreign to his ears. "Aye, that'll be fifty..."

Athell stood there for a moment... his head tilted, as his mind went over what the man had said.

Thaer just stared at him. "Don't have all day! Are ye comin' or not!"

Athell blinked, startled out of his thoughts. "Um... sorry... yes!" Handing him the bag of septims, he walked around and climbed up.

Sitting down on the seat, he lay his duffle on the bed of the carriage. And for the first time, he ventured a look down the stone path toward the ships. With a flick of the reigns, the horses began to move and he could just see the black leather hood, the stitched-in golden threaded design, as it came into view. Next to it... the silver/white hair of Ancano.

The overwhelming feeling of excitement, coupled with the excruciating pain of his infidelity coursed through him. He couldn't fall apart... he couldn't. He'd already spent the morning weeping. He had to be strong.

Turning in his seat... he closed his eyes.

**********

They couldn't speak about him, not until they got away from the docks... away from the soldiers and the other Thalmor that were present. Ancano noted his aloof behavior. He was more distant than usual and the longer they walked, the longer they talked... the worse it became. Chalking it up to the loss he felt, he carried on.

He was aware of the pain his friend was feeling, and if it were anywhere _near_ what his own guilt was doing to him, he would be near crippled! Everything in him, wanted to get down onto his knees and beg his friend for forgiveness! Taking a deep breath, he looked ahead... cringing inside as he caught a glimpse of Athell's hood.

Pausing, as they watched him climb into the carriage. He made every attempt to hold his expression. Just seeing him pull away in the carriage... he had wanted to run to him! Run to him and hold him! He had longed to just see him... just to touch him one last time... to tell him that he loved him!

Ancano watched him. 

Ondolemar knew his old friend was aware of the look he held. He couldn't hide his grimace of pain.

Speaking low to him... "He is fine Ondolemar."

Looking back ahead as they walked past where the carriage had sat. "You do know, we will have to stick to our story once they seek us for questioning. You will have to be strong then as well."

Ondolemar stopped dead in his tracks. The look on his face so deadly serious, it may as well have been set in stone. If it were possible to die from heartache, he would have! But... even with that, he had to deal with betrayal as well!

Keeping his voice low... his green eyes, boring into Ancano's amber ones. _"How dare you!_ How dare you patronize me! He could have sailed with me, and you know it! It would have been no different than him being with you! And yet, even when you will have him with you... you take our last time together, for yourself!"

Ancano's heart felt as if it would stop! He swallowed, as Ondolemar took a step towards him! His fists clenched up at his sides! "Tell me! Old friend! Does my fiance still love me! After he has lain with you!"

Ancano's mouth dropped. Before he could even find the words to come out, Ondolemar stepped closer, glaring at him! "Try to deny it! Try! You absolutely reek of him! I can smell him on you!"

For a moment all he could do was shake his head, attempting to control his breathing. "Ondolemar... please. We were in one room... sharing a small bed... of course, I would... "

Looking down, Ondolemar shook his head, his hand raising up to still him. "You would lie to me... over him. You are still in love with him! Please do not further your trespass by being false with me! You smell as I do after loving him. I am no fool, please do not treat me as such."

Raising a hand to Ondolemar's shoulder, his friend's hand instantly moving to block it. The face that now looked upon him, was filled with pain... anguish.

Ancano straightened, looking him in the eye. "You are correct. He could have sailed with you... I used his safety as an excuse for my own selfishness."

The furrow in his friend's brow increasing, as he listened... "He does love you... there is no doubt. I was the one that betrayed you."

Ondolemar recoiled from him! turning around in the pathway, he looked into the trees. One hand coming up to his mouth, as a harsh whisper escaped him! _"How! How could you!_ You are my only ally in this! Gods... if I cannot trust you--"

His shaking hands ran through his hair. It took everything he had not to fall to the ground... not to weep! His voice, choked. "Ondolemar... it was my trespass! Mine alone! I took advantage of his heartache, for my own selfish needs..."

Hiding his face from him, as he wiped his tears from under the safety of his hood... he turned. Barely able to look upon him. He couldn't _believe_ that this was happening!

Ancano took a deep breath... licking his lips, he looked down. "If I could take it back, I would. But please, do not punish him... please! I initiated it. He loves you... he wept afterward..."

Just a glance, cut him to the very bone! Averting his eyes... he could no longer bear it. "We both did..."

Even as Ondolemar willed them away... the tears came. "I came to you! I asked your approval to be with him! Why? Why did you give it, if you were still so taken with him? Why could you not be honest with me, even then?"

"I was honest with you! Letting him go was my error! I would not deny you of my blessing! You and he wanted each other... it would have been selfish of me! I was happy for you! I am still!"

Ancano looked away, tears falling from his face! "I couldn't be strong! I couldn't... I was weak! I still love him! I am so sorry Ondolemar... I cannot even beg your forgiveness! _I wanted him!_ I knew that this would be my last chance, to have something that I was too cowardice to take when we were together."

When he looked back at him, he was facing the city. His face was set. "Are you still with me on this? Will you take further advantage at the college?"

Wiping his face... working to control his emotions. "I will not touch him again! We have both agreed, that it was to never happen again. I am with you!"

Not once, did he look at him as they walked... "We must control ourselves prior to seeing Elenwen. When the time comes... I will stick to our story. Will you?"

Ancano nodded. "I will..."

***********

Thaer called back to him, "Goin to be a long ride tonight! See those furs on the floor there... bundle up with those, if you get cold. We won't take a good rest until Dawnstar."

Athell reached down, gathering them up. Looking around at the forests that surrounded them, the sun was getting high in the sky and the breeze was light. It was still warm now, but Ancano had warned him that the closer they got to Winterhold the colder it would get.

Looking down at his duffle, Ancano had packed him bread, cheese and some apples. A full water skin. Plus, several small bags of coins and two large ones. The smaller ones, were for lodging and food along the way. The two larger ones were to give to the Arch-Mage, once he got to the college. Telling him, they should be sufficient to get him through until Ancano received his pay.

Of course once he paid his tuition, his meals and anything else he needed there would be furnished. He wasn't used to dealing with his own funds. He had always had an allowance at home. His own servants... he was treated as royalty and respected. When he wanted something... he got it. Living meagerly, was something that he would definitely have to get used to.

Ancano had forewarned him! He could not act like royalty here, he would have to watch what everyone else did and try to blend in.

Remembering his manners, he looked toward the driver. "Thank you... for the furs."

Thaer glanced back at him. "No worries. We'll take a rest every few hours or so, give the horses a break. You can relieve yourself and fill any water skins you have then."

"What happens when we get to Dawnstar?"

"We'll take a day to rest at the Inn. Sleep in a bed, get a hot meal. Horses will get a good rest in their stables. The next day, we'll ride on to Winterhold. Gods willing, the weather will hold up."

He finally settled back on the seat. Looking around at all the forest... the wildlife. There seemed to be water almost everywhere. While the Islands that made up his homeland, had fresh water sources. Small freshwater lakes, some streams and falls scattered about, but a large portion of what they had were warm springs. And while they were rich in minerals, much of it was not suitable for drinking and therefore was strictly used for bathing and spas. 

Even with the portion that wasn't drinkable, they did have numerous caves and aquifers, that held mineral water suitable for it. But out of necessity, each household and business still had multiple rain barrels.

Due to their climate, the heat caused evaporation to take place at a much faster pace. Here that didn't seem like that would be a problem. And more than likely, due to the fact that their climate was colder and that they were absolutely loaded with mountainous region, there would be constant run off from the mountains. He almost couldn't wait to taste the water. Ice cold it would be!

So far, from what he could see... Skyrim was beautiful. Every bit, as beautiful as his homeland. Definitely different in many ways, but no less beautiful. And a lot colder! Even in Solitude, it was much colder than he had ever seen it. Everything in him, felt like this was what he needed right now. New surroundings to distract him... take his mind off all his worries... his pain.

Ancano had told him to wear extra's under his robes. But even with that, he couldn't help but shiver when the wind blew. His eyes kept wandering down to the duffle... thinking about the other sets of clothing he had. A smile came to his lips, as he wondered just how many sets of clothes he could fit under his robes.

Laughing to himself... he held the furs tighter around him. The driver just glanced at him and shook his head. The look on the Nord's face, making him laugh even more.

Before they stopped for the first break, he had seen his first snowflakes. In complete awe... he had held out his bare hand, catching them and watching them melt against his skin. Looking at all the different shapes... they were so lovely. And so cold! But after just several moments, he had reached into his duffle and grabbed his gloves, putting them on.

It was nearing dark and they had stopped only once. Other than some wolves off in the distance, there had been no real threats thus far. Deer and Elk ran wild, crossing in front of them here and there. Numerous rabbits and fox galore.

Finally coming up to a river, the driver pulled over and stopped. Jumping down, Athell pulled his hood down and stretched, rubbing his backside. Even with sitting on the furs, the wooden seats were rough to sit on constantly. "Would you mind filling that bucket for them?"

Turning toward the Nord, he needed to walk, anything to get circulation going again. "Of course not... here."

The driver handing him a bucket to fill for the horses, he turned and headed down toward the water.

Pulling off his gloves, he tucked them away and knelt down to fill the bucket. It was so crystal clear... dipping his finger in, he shivered! It was absolutely freezing! Instantly, goose flesh ran up his arm.

Standing, he bent to brush the dirt from his robes. The sound of hooves in the distance, making him look up toward the stone pathway.

Thaer grabbed him by the arm! Hauling him back over to the carriage! Water, sloshing out of the bucket. "Get over here quick! Stay by me! Stay by the horses!"

His heart was pounding in his chest! Watching the driver, he could tell the Nord was fighting to look calm. But still, even with all the man's effort, fear dominated his expression. The horses were coming closer! Thaer whispered to him. "Thalmor... if they stop, you keep quiet and let me do the talking. You hear!"

His breath caught in his throat! He nodded at him, almost shocked at his reaction as to who was approaching. Watching him, he could tell the man was truly terrified. He couldn't believe it, he had been around Thalmor his entire life. He had never seen fear in any of his people over them.

Of course... he was royalty. He had only traveled and lived in his homeland. But here...

Even with all of his schooling, nothing could have prepared him for what was happening. He knew of the political strife between their people, he was also well versed in Skyrim's history, as well as the lands and holds... the Jarls. He knew who his enemies were, and they shouldn't be his own people!

The problem was... he couldn't tell anyone who he was. If he did, the man driving the carriage would more than likely become his enemy, as well as any Stormcloaks that they happened across.

The only ones who would aid him then... were seen as this land's enemies. His own people. And that was if they believed him! He had no proof of who he was, save the banner that was tattooed on the back of his neck.

When he'd had it done, he had gone to a Bosmer. A Bosmer that was well known throughout Alinor that did work on the side. Of course, after just a few days and showing it off at several gatherings, word had circulated through his people enough to completely mortify his father.

Which, at the time, had been his intention... thoroughly pleasing him. As at the time, he had been upset with him. And of course, his father acted displeased in front of others over it... but in private, while they were intimate, he had lavished it with kisses. Even to the point of nuzzling it... the whole time, scolding him in whispered and hushed tones. Letting him know, that his little plan had backfired.

His people and the Thalmor, knew him by that tattoo. His father had all but told him... that from now on he would be able to keep track of him! All he had accomplished in doing, was aid him!

Sticking his head out from behind one of the horses, he looked at the approaching horsemen.

Counting them, there were two wearing robes... Justiciars. Behind them, were what looked like two Nords. The Nords were on horseback, but they were bound, and wearing nothing but rags. Behind them, were two Dominion soldiers on horseback as well.

Coming up to the carriage, they slowed. Athell's heart pounding in his chest... watching them. As soon as the Justiciars noticed them, they stopped. Their horses moving in closer to one another, eyeing the water. One of the soldiers climbed down and began to lead the two horses, carrying what was evidently their prisoners, over to the water to drink.

The grip the Nord had on his arm, tightened to a point that it was almost painful!

Looking up at the closest one, he thought he would choke! _He knew him! Oh Gods!_ Even in the chilled air, beads of sweat sprung up on his forehead and upper lip. Other than Ondolemar, he was one of Ancano's closest friends... Ancano had mentored him. There had been numerous times during his stay with Ancano, that the Mer had stopped by to see him. And on several of those occasions, he had stayed to dine with them.

Not only had they socialized at gatherings, but he also was a close acquaintance of Ondolemar's. Enough so that he knew of their engagement. Instantly, his stomach turned... he swallowed, fighting the nausea that threatened to overtake him.

Estormo's head tilting... "Do I know you?"

Athell just shook his head... his eyes growing bigger and bigger, his mouth dropping as the Thalmor got off from his horse.

Athell took a step backward as he approached him. The Nord's grip and his body behind him halting his only way of retreat. Quietly, he sucked in a breath.

Estormo walked towards him... Au-riel! his hood was down. His eyes darted over, watching as the other soldier got down from his horse, and took Estormo's over to drink.

Stopping right in front of him... they were eye to eye. Estormo's brow pinched together. "Did you not hear me? I _swear,_ that I have seen you before... what is your name?"

Thaer spoke up from behind him. "He's mute..."

Actually leaning back, as if in shock, the Thalmor's eyebrows raised up, his eyes going back to Athell. " _A mute Mer..._ what a rarity indeed!"

Removing one of his leather gloves, his bare hand went up to Athell's ear... snapping his fingers. Athell leaned back into the Nord, glancing at the hand that was so close to him. "He doesn't seem to be deaf..."

Thaer moved forward just a touch, "No, he's not... scrawled me a note though, tellin me where he wanted to go. Hasn't made a sound the whole time."

"Where _is_ this note." He was speaking to the Nord, but his eyes were locked onto Athell's.

"Tossed it... back in Solitude."

Athell could actually smell the Nord sweating, and just from the way Estormo's nostril's were flaring and his eyes were narrowing... so could he.

Raising his hand to Athell's hair... he took a piece, briefly feeling of it. His eyes boring into Athell's. "Where is he headed... No, No! Let me guess!" His eyes moving over him, taking in what he wore. "Winterhold... "

Thaer nodded. "Aye... "

Athell let out an audible gasp, as Estormo's hand went from his hair, to his jaw! Holding him tightly, he turned his face... looking at him... inspecting him. A ray of sunlight peeking through the trees as it neared the horizon, glinting off the gold hoop in the upper edge of his pointed ear, catching his eye... he released his jaw and took hold of the ear! Looking over the earring, his eyes narrowing further.

Athell's hands were locked together at his chest! Everything in him, wanted to push Estormo away! _He couldn't believe the audacity!_ He also couldn't believe, that he was actually _afraid_ of this Mer... this Mer, that he had dined with on numerous occasions!

Finally releasing him, he moved right up into his face! "I swear! I know you... I guarantee you it will come to me!"

He was going to cry... if he was found out! It would all be over. His chin quivered. Slowly, he shook his head in apology. The Nord's grip on him, cutting off his circulation. "You're hair coloring, is that of a half-breed. And yet... your skin and features are not! Your eyes! are not."

Backing away... his eyes did not leave him... "If I had more time, and perhaps a little bit of privacy... I guarantee you, Mer... that I would discover you are not mute at all!"

A wicked grin came over his golden face. "In fact... I would be willing to wager, that you have _quite_ a beautiful singing voice."

The Thalmor on the horse behind him actually chuckled... sending shivers down his spine. And even as chilling as it was... it broke the tension, giving him just the slightest bit of relief.

Estormo finally turned around and walked to his horse, climbing up... he once again looked down at him. "A very good friend of mine, is to be stationed at Winterhold, _mute!_   In fact, he is to be arriving _any day now_. Perhaps, I shall make a visit to him..." Athell just stood there... terrified... feeling as though he would wet himself. Was there nowhere safe?

He took the reigns, smiling down at him. "I will be seeing you again... soon."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Massive shit storm approaching!** Just so you know. :D


	22. Regret

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Soldin's eyes narrowed, as he looked at the carriage driver. "What race!"
> 
> Giant hands digging into his shoulders! forcing him out of the carriage and onto his feet! He cried out... no longer caring if he wept in front of them. The torch was shoved into his face, as his hood was yanked down! Biting into his lip... his face pinching up in attempt to stifle his own sobs.
> 
> "High Elf!"

***********

Watching them ride away, a cold breeze moving the hair against the back of his neck, reminding him that his hood was down. Quickly he grabbed at it, throwing it back over his head.

Thaer stepped in front of him, staring up into his face. Even with the fact that they were no longer in sight, he whispered. The look on his face, was now one of mistrust. The man's thick lips pursed up... his brow gathered. "I just risked my neck for you Elf! Now, be truthful with me! Do you know that Thalmor? _Does he know you!_ "

Athell's head shook furiously! Fighting tears, he fought to keep his voice low... to keep it from breaking. He couldn't believe this! "No! He is mistaken! I swear it! I.. I'm from Cyrodil!"

Taking a deep breath, he blotted the clammy skin of his forehead, with the cloth from his arm. "I thank you for helping me. I do. You can trust me... I swear it."

Thaer's frown only deepened. His Nordic accent, made all the worse from his emotion. "With these times... I trust no one but me, Elf! I don't know where you're from. All I know, is that you appeared by the docks, needin' a ride. And that the ones that'r haulin' off my kinsmen, seem to know you!"

Thaer actually took a step back from him... pointing his finger in his direction! "For all _I know_ you could be a spy!"

Athell's stomach knotted up! Still shaking his head, "I am simply here to study... that is all." Pointing his finger into his own chest. "It is only because I am Altmer. It has to be!"

The driver remained quiet for a moment... stepping back further, he eyed him. Athell swallowed. "Look, I promise! I don't want any trouble... I just want to go to the college." Lifting the bucket up, "I'll go refill this and give the horses a drink... alright?"

Thaer nodded, but didn't say another word... watching him, as he walked toward the river. Thinking over the way the Thalmor had touched him... the things that he'd said to him.

This was one fare, that he couldn't wait to be rid of...

Watering and feeding the horses, they left. The entire rest of the night, the carriage driver was silent to him... every once in a while, sparing a glance back at him.

The tension between them, growing and growing, until Athell felt he would be sick from it. Several times, he'd tried to think of something to say... anything, to lighten the weight of it. Every time he thought of something, before he could spit it out, he would cave from fear.

Reaching into his duffle, he took out a small bottle of wine. Pulling the cork out, he took several drinks. Before putting it back, he lifted it up. "Would you like a drink?"

Thaer shook his head, not even looking back at him. "Nope... got my own, thanks."

Athell swallowed, briefly closing his eyes he slowly lowered the bottle and corked it back up, putting it away. What he had wanted to do... was joke with him, that he would take a drink in front of him... show him, that it was safe.

Staring down at the bed of the carriage, his heart felt like it was in his stomach. He meant these people no harm! He held no ill will towards them. He wanted freedom, just like they did.

Never, had he been treated differently due to his race! Never! and now he was in a foreign land... in fear of his own people, that they might find out who he was. In fear of the Nords, that they might think he was a Thalmor sympathizer, or just over the fact that he was simply Mer. In some ways he _was_ a sympathizer. Only in that he wanted Ancano and Ondolemar safe... he wanted his people safe.

But, he didn't want harm to come to anyone else either.

Sparing a glance back up at the Nord's head... all he could think about, was what he had done. What he was doing, and what would happen because of it. Everything in him, telling him that he had been a fool! He wanted to believe it... he did. But his heart wouldn't let him! Every time he thought about the marriage, he wanted to be ill! Every time he thought of his father... he wanted to weep. He would give anything to be back in his arms! Anything...

His mind kept going to Ondolemar... and how he had betrayed him. How he was risking everything, to help him... so they could have a life together. And how he could never tell him the truth. Not ever...

He did love him... he did. He truly did fall for him. He wanted to marry him. As soon as he had seen him, he had been taken by him... attracted to him, excited by him.

He hadn't gone after him, just to have a means to an end. Just to finally get, what he had so been longing for from his father. It had simply worked out that way. Of course, he pushed things faster to aid him in his goal... but, that didn't diminish what he felt for Ondolemar.

He didn't see being with his father as infidelity... he was his father's lover first! If anything, it was Ondolemar, who had been the other man. Hence the reason why his father had been cut so deeply by it. He hadn't wanted to hurt either of them. But deep in his heart, he knew that he could never have what he truly needed with his father.

All of it, was killing him inside.

His chest clenched up in pain, he stared up into the night sky... looking at the stars... he had been so selfish. Tears made their way down his cheeks. If he could just get to the college... just get there. He would have to tell Ancano of the fact that he had stumbled upon Estormo. The fact that he had almost recognized him... the fact, that he intended to make a visit to Winterhold!

Just thinking of all of it, was enough to make his head spin. It was too much. Pulling all the furs up around him, he needed rest. Hopefully, things would get a little better when they reached Dawnstar and then they could both rest. He would try to converse with him again once they were there.

Finally bundled up in the furs, he lay down, allowing the rocking of the moving carriage to lull him to sleep.

*********

Not hearing any noise for awhile, he glanced back at the Elf again. He had curled up on the bed of the carriage, laying there surrounded in furs. Turning his head further, it looked like he was asleep. Picking up the bottle of mead in the opening of the knapsack next to him, he bit the cork out and took a long drawl.

Ever since the Thalmor had left them, he hadn't been able to stop thinkin' about what the one had said to the young Elf. How he had touched his hair. What had he said?

'You have the hair coloring of a half-breed... but not the skin... not the features... the eyes.'

Shaking his head, he just couldn't figure it. What troubled him most now, was the fact that they were ridin' right into Stormcloak territory. Dawnstar was loaded with Stormcloaks... their sympathizers. Even the Jarl, was on Ulfric's side!

And any that weren't, kept it to themselves. For fear of retaliation, if you asked him!

Thaer wasn't on Ulfric's side... but, he wasn't gonna come out and say that in front of anyone. Not unless he knew for sure that he was amongst those that felt the same as he did. He didn't feel it cowardice! He was travelin' alone all the time, with Gods only knew who had paid him. He was in constant fear for his life. And now... he had a possible spy in his carriage.

That didn't mean he agreed with the damned Thalmor either! He didn't agree with all the free reign the Empire was givin them... but he also knew the Empire didn't have much choice in it. If he went into Dawnstar and this young one, turned out to be what he thought he was... what was to keep them, from turnin' on him? Thinkin' that he was in cahoots with this Elf!

Had no choice, but to stop there. The horses would need proper food and rest. They themselves, would need a decent meal and some warmth, for Talos' sake! He'd just have to keep him quiet! Keep that damned hood up! The only Elf he could remember ever seein' there, was that priest... an he was a grey skin. They weren't a threat... it was the Altmer you had to watch out for.

Of course, more and more of them had been comin' into Skyrim since the war. Tryin' to escape their own... what in Oblivion did _that_ tell you! It seems that the Thalmor, should be takin' that into consideration. But _Oh No!_ They'd knife their own, just like they would a Nord!

All he could do, was pray that they didn't attract too much attention. He'd get one room. They'd bunk together, eat together and get out of there early the next morning. All he wanted to do was dump him in Winterhold and be done with him! Get back to Solitude.

The thought froze in his mind as torches came into view up ahead.

His heart sped, as he watched the torches move from the woods and into the road, blocking their path.

"Oh Gods..." Yanking on the reigns, the carriage quickly slowed and stopped. He could hear his passenger hit the backside of wall that separated his seat from the bed. Hearing him mumble and shift about... his eyes moved to the seat next to him. All he had was a damned dagger.

Turning his head, trying to speak as low as possible. "Hey! Elf! Wake up! We got trouble!" There were too many... he whispered to him. "Don't try and fight... too many!"

From the corner of his eye as he turned, he saw the Elf sit up... the furs drop from around him. It was too late. Two riders on horseback were at each side of him. Four more, were approaching on foot... those that held the torches, those that had distracted him. He had been so focused on those torches moving up ahead, he hadn't even noticed the riders.

He took them in. All wearing an array of fur and leather. Not a sturdy piece of armor amongst any of em'. But that didn't mean nothin'. Most times it was the ones that had the least, that were the fiercest! They were either the sort that held with all the real old ways, or they were real shitty at their choice of occupation.

Metal armor was heavy and it was cold. It slowed you down.

These men weren't thin, nor did they didn't have a starved look to them... a desperate look. His eyes scanned over them, as the ones bearing the torches stopped in front of the carriage. Every one of them, were tattooed, painted... pierced. Not a shaved one among them. Full beards... knotted, braided or hanging loose. Long hair.

Their weapons were not those of the poor or poorly prepared either. No iron... steel. He licked his lips... some of them even bore Elven weaponry. The ones on horseback had bows... archers. Just in case somebody tried to escape. If they did fall in with the old ways... they didn't have a problem using more efficient weaponry.

No, these men were killers... predators. His stomach twisted up.

His hands shaking as he raised them. "Look now! We... we don't want no trouble." Even with all his fighting to keep his voice straight, it wavered. "Ain't got nothin' but my passenger... that's it! Nothin' of value!"

The one on horseback closest to him, jerked his head toward the back of the carriage, speaking to the others. "Go take a look in the back." His gaze coming back up to Thaer.

As soon as he heard the men's voices... Athell slid his ring off. Sitting as still as possible... his hand slid between his robes and tucked it into his breech. Raising his hands as they approached the back of the carriage, the driver spoke slowly to him... loud enough for all to hear. "Give em' your bag... give em' whatever they want... an they'll let us loose."

Thaer's eyes locked onto the rider... sweat ran down his temples, as he slowly nodded. "Ain't that right? You'll let us go, if we give you what we have?"

The rider chuckled, showing his teeth... his hands folded on the reigns. "Aya... that's right... no need for blood spill... _if_ we get what we want."

It was so dark, all he could see of him well, was his eyes and teeth. Nord had so much paint on, he could barely even see his skin. One of the torch holders, climbed up to his seat holding out his hand. "I'll be takin that satchel you have there." Pulling it free of his belt, Thaer handed it over, letting out a deep breath. He wouldn't worry over how they would pay for board... food, or anything else. Just gettin out of this with their lives, was all he wanted.

Pushing the bag toward the opening with his foot, Athell stayed still as the two men got closer. He swallowed... absolute panic filled him. He fought to control his breathing, control the overwhelming urge to cry. That would definitely do him no good. He needed to be strong. The light from the torches, was giving him a better look at them.

The only Nords he had ever seen, were allies to his people. There were numerous Imperials and a few Nords, that had traveled from Cyrodil and even from Skyrim, to do business with the Thalmor and their people. Their numbers of course, were controlled... how long they stayed and where they were allowed. He was not entirely a stranger to them. But, they were all well kempt. They all wore fine attire and were well groomed. Men of power... men of refinement amongst their own kind.

These men were nothing like the ones he was accustomed to seeing. These men looked wild... vicious!

Not even bothering to look inside, the bandit grabbed the bag and stood aside while his partner held the torch out closer to the carriage bed. "Get out of the carriage!"

Athell froze... his eyes darting between them. His voice cracking, fighting the quiver in his chin. "B.. But, I.. I don't have anything..."

Before the man could speak again, he heard the stretch of gut as a bow was drawn. He didn't need to look, he could see from his peripheral that the other rider had come up along side of him, an arrow now aimed at his head. The Nord's voice, deep and venomous! "Do what he says! Get out!"

Warm tears, rolled down his frozen cheeks. Pushing the furs away, he crawled toward the opening. The one holding the bow on him, called out to the other. "We got ourselves a Mage!"

Thaer closed his eyes. Another thing Nords like these hated... magic users.

Soldin's eyes narrowed as he looked at the carriage driver. "What race!"

Giant hands digging into his shoulders! forcing him out of the carriage and onto his feet! He cried out... no longer caring if he wept in front of them. The torch was shoved into his face, as his hood was yanked down! Biting into his lip... his face pinching up in attempt to stifle his own sobs.

"High Elf!"

Yelping as hands groped him roughly, searching for any valuables... any weapons. The one holding the torch circled him, as the other took hold of his ear, twisting it as he eyed the gold hoop. Athell squeezed his eyes closed... waiting for the rip, as the Nord took the hoop in his fingers. 

The icy wind blew...

"Hold up!... come look at this!"

Feeling the heat of the torch, as it got dangerously close to his head. Athell let out a sob... as he realized what had just been seen. His chest heaving with his breaths, raising his hands up to his face... he dropped to his knees, as the Nord holding him took a handful of hair and raised it, yanking the neck of his robes down until the cloth at his throat threatened to choke him!

Within seconds he was surrounded by the bandits, as they all looked at the thing on his neck, that would seal his doom.

Soldin looked down at him from his horse. "Keep him whole! The bag too! We'll take em both to him... see what he has to say!"

Thaer twisted round in his seat, his eyes bulging in fear! "What?... Wait! You said you'd let us go! You got all we had!"

Turning his horse, to head back towards the driver... he watched as the carriage jostled around, all the men on foot climbing in, hauling Athell up by the arms and tossing him in amongst them... holding him between them. The Elf tucked his face, into his knees. Even as close as they were around him, he still managed to rock back and forth... weeping.

Soldin shook his head, letting out sharp breath... 'A Thalmor that weeps.' That was new. The one that they had penned up, had taken quite a bit before even lettin out a single noise. Filing it away, he had time to think it over as they rode.

Coming up directly next to driver, Soldin glared at him. "Did you know... fellow Nord, that you were transporting a Thalmor? Damned Elf has a tattoo of the Aldmeri banner on his fuckin neck!"

His stomach gave a lurch, threatening to launch what little it held! His head shaking so fast his vision blurred. Raising his hands up in defense. "No! No! I didn't know! I promise... I.. I just picked him up in Solitude!"

Soldin's lip curled up in disgust. "Of course... Solitude. I should have known! You're both coming with us. When we're done with him, you and your carriage are free to go."

He'd made a promise to Agnin, no more Nord blood would be spilt. Unless they were wearing Imperial gear. Man had some guilt to work out... Soldin understood. Enough of their kinsmen were dying right now. They could take what was needed, without shedding blood unless they had no other choice.

He'd let his friend decide what to do with the driver once they got what they needed out of this young one.


	23. Eye For An Eye

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thaer's back pressed against the cold stone. Even as the frigid wind blew through the carved openings in the stone walls... the sweat ran down his body underneath his clothes. His hands, up at his chest... holding onto his leather cap, wringing it in fear.
> 
> His eyes flew up to the prisoner that was now standing in the cage. The fire that was blazing in the stone fire pit in the floor, giving him just enough light to see good by... too much. As soon as the Mer's face came into view, he turned around and emptied his gut onto the floor.

*********

Lifting the bottle to his lips, he briefly closed his eyes... almost oblivious to the heat that ran down his throat. After a few moments, the warmth it gave him would ebb. It was nothing like the burn that his hatred offered. That would never fade... not ever!

Lowering the bottle, his eyes once again leveled onto the piece of shit that was sitting in the cage. It had taken him days to work out his anger and frustration on him... days.

After the war, he didn't think he would ever be able to rid himself of the sights he had seen, nightmares still haunting him. Seeing what had remained of his kinsmen. How many of them had died, and how they had died. Remembering how Ulfric had looked when he had returned home after escaping them. 

Remembering Thorald and what they had done to him! The rest of them that had been held there with him! How many had been tortured... killed.

Many simply for Talos worship! Tortured and killed!

Just thinking about it now, his mouth had a taste so bitter. Perhaps it was a good thing that he remembered. It was his motivation... that, and winning back Ulfric's trust. He would do _anything_ to be seen right with him again.

Walking up to the cage he gathered the liquid up in his mouth and spit. No movement... not a sound. Even as the saliva ran down the Mer's bare arm...

The Elf sat, leaning against the stone wall of the ruin... dressed only in ragged breeches, nothing more. His arms bound behind his back. His hands... well... what remained of them, were loosely clasped together. He never made any noise... ever. He just sat there... staring into the floor, as if he were seeing through it.

A party of three... one Justiciar and two soldiers. They had been fools to travel here in _this_ part of Skyrim! _This_ was Ulfric's territory.

They had fallen upon them, killing all but him. He was worth more than the soldiers... he knew more. Even if they hadn't gotten any information from him yet, it was just a matter of time.

This was war. Even if no declaration had been made... that's what it was. The pigs were in their land, killing and torturing their people. No rules... no mercy. War.

They'd had enough. And if they had to fight their own to show the Empire who's side they needed to be on, to get them to pull their heads out! Then... well, then that's what would happen.

Staring down at the bound Elf, the sound of horses drew his attention away. Wheels... they had a carriage. Perhaps things were going to take a turn for the better.

Raising the bottle once more, he stepped towards the open doorway, watching as several of the men took the horses around back to the make shift stable they'd built. Two of them hauling what appeared to be a mage out of the back of the carriage and a decent sized Nord, getting down out of the driver's seat, wearing commoner's clothes.

Raising his arm, he used it to wipe across his mouth. This was getting more and more interesting by the second... no need to wrack his brain over it, he'd find out soon enough.

Soldin walked inside, dropping a leather duffle onto the stone floor. The two holding the mage followed him in... then the driver.

Agnin took them all in, as Soldin yelled over to their prisoner, "Got some compny for you Elf!"

The mage hung limply between his two men, each one holding an arm. Head down... Soldin grabbed hold of the hood, yanking it back! Agnin moved closer, looking at the Elf's hair. The coloring of it against his skin. He could see his pointed ears sticking out through it. One bearing a gold hoop.

"Half-breed?" Setting down the bottle, he took a handful of the Mer's hair and pulled his head back to see his face. "Huh... he's a young one."

Ignoring the stirring in the cell across the room, Agnin let loose of the hair he held allowing the Mer's head to fall once again toward the floor.

Huffing at him... "Ain't no half breed!" Soldin moved around to the back of him, grabbed hold of his leggings and yanked them down. Athell cried out, as cold rough hands, grabbed the cheeks of his ass and spread them apart, so the other Nord could get a good look. Agnin bent down, looking at the fine blond hairs that surrounded his little puckered hole.

"His hair's been colored! I knew he didn't fit bein' a half-breed. An take a look at this..." Gathering up the material around the back of his neck, he pulled it back, exposing the tattoo. Smiling, "I think we finally got our prize."

Agnin's mouth dropped as he took it in. It was a perfect replica of the first Aldmeri banner. Running from the Mer's hairline, down his neck and ending in-between his shoulder blades.

An audible gasp came from the cell! Turning toward the noise, the Justiciar was now on his feet. The front of his body pressed up hard against the bars... his face pushed as far as it would go through them, so he could fully see. For the first time, he looked afraid.

Thaer's back pressed against the cold stone. Even as the frigid wind blew through the carved openings in the stone walls, the sweat ran down his body underneath his clothes. His hands up at his chest, holding onto his leather cap, wringing it in fear. His eyes flew up to the prisoner that was now standing in the cage. The fire that was blazing in the stone fire pit in the floor, giving him just enough light to see good by... too much. As soon as the Mer's face came into view... he turned around and emptied his gut onto the floor.

"No!... No!... it can't be." Molleenen pressed against the bars, gaping at the Mer they held. His tattoo... it couldn't be! For the first time in as long as he could remember, tears formed in his eyes, overflowing and rolling down his cheeks. A sob escaped his mouth! There was truly no hope... no hope! How did they have him... _how in Au-riel's name, did they have him!_

Athell looked up... his eyes blurry from all his tears. Snot ran down over his lips, hanging in a string from his chin. Letting him fall to his knees, they turned loose of his arms. Soldin giving him a hard shove with his boot, "Try and use that magic, and you'll lose your hands! Got it!"

The rest of their men, had all come in and were lined up against the walls, watching.

Walking over to the cage, Agnin looked in on the Thalmor. "You know him! Now, mayhap you'll talk, huh? Help him out... help us. Or you'll get to watch while we work on him, the way we did you. He's a cryer... he won't last very long I bet."

Opening the cell door, he grabbed hold of the Thalmor's arm and led him out until he was in front of the newcomer, kicking the backs of his legs, the Mer's knees landing down hard on the stone. If it hurt... if he felt anything, it didn't show. The only thing that seemed to matter, even after all that had been done to him... was this young Mer.

Coming around the back of their new prisoner, Soldin bent down onto one knee... his arm went around the front of Athell's shoulders, holding him. Neither of them had to ask a single question. Agnin stood behind the Justiciar and watched, as his wish... everything that he'd been fighting for, fell into place.

Attempting to take in the Mer before him... Athell shook his head, his eyes widened. Gasping for breath, his mouth hanging slack... one hand, going out to him... touching his shoulder, the other, prying at the arm that held him.

Even as he cried out, his mouth watered from nausea. _"Nnnooo! Nnnooo!"_

Dropping his head, he vomited onto the stones between his knees. He couldn't believe that _this_ was the same Mer... tears flowed from him as he looked back up, sobbing!

Molleenen just stared at him. His eyes so full of fear. Fear, that he had never seen on _any_ of his people. Especially this strong Mer. He had known him since he was just tiny... and now.

Au-riel! What was happening! What had they done to him. He.. he looked like a monster!

His nose and ears had been completely carved away. Just looking at him, was like peering deep into his skull. The ragged edges of his wounds, were still angry and red. The hole where his nose had been, ran with mucus, the whole portion of his lower face and neck was dried with it. Parts of his scalp had been removed, large crimson patches of raw flesh were exposed. One eye was blood red... bruised and swollen from beatings. His eyes, couldn't get away from his face long enough to look at the rest of him.

He was afraid to.

Molleenen's voice, choked with emotion. "What... what, are you doing here? Young Master..."

Looking down, he swallowed... it didn't matter. It didn't matter _how_  they had him... _they had him!_  He couldn't let the same fate befall this Royal. This horrible, horrible fate. "Do not look upon me, Athelleen... just hear what I say."

Athell turned his head away, his body shaking from his sobs. His hand stretched out, finding Molleenen's cheek, and he held it there as he listened. "You do as they say... you do whatever they tell you! Do you understand me!"

As Athell nodded, Molleenen's eyes met Soldin's. "He is valuable to you... to Ulfric." Tears ran down his face. Fighting against the wretched quiver in his mouth and chin, he spoke the forbidden words. Forbidden, but would possibly save their people's most valuable bloodline! And he would meet their God knowing he did all he could to preserve it! "He is Athelleen Aldmeri... heir to the Aldmeri bloodline."

Every man, now took a step toward the center of the room... speaking low to one another, their eyes centering on their new captive! "I do not know why he is here... but if you take him to Ulfric, he will cooperate. Please! He is worth much more to your people, unharmed and alive!"

Soldin's hold on him tightened! The Nord's mouth against his ear... warm, damp breath, fluttering against him as he spoke. "Is that true, Elf!" 

The hold around him, tightening even more as the Nord's body pushed against his back... his bare bottom, the arm around his shoulders forcing his back straight! His hand was being pulled away from Molleenen's face, Athell nodded... his eyes closed tight! The tremor in his voice, barely allowing him to speak his words. "Yes... please, I will do what you want... just let him go... please!"

Agnin began to laugh, like he'd just heard the funniest thing. Laying a hand briefly to his stomach... he laughed. Wrapping a hand around the Justiciar's forehead, he pulled him back. Molleenen closed his eyes. "Hey! Aldmeri... you look at him one last time and I'll let him go... deal?"

Straightening his back, Molleenen relaxed and leaned against Agnin... it was time. He would be with Au-riel... and he would finally be the way their people were meant to be... he had longed for it. Feeling the sharp metal of the blade as it ran across his throat... he welcomed it. 

Like a flood, hot copper flowed down over him.

Finally... finally, he was warm.

Far off in the distance, he could hear screams.


	24. What I Won't Do

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Looking into his eyes, he spoke quiet. "Athelleen.... hey."
> 
> Patting his face lightly. Finally the Mer's green eyes moved to his... slowly, some recognition seemed to come back. He almost wished it hadn't. The pain that was so apparent in the young Elf's eyes, made his guts churn and his heart ache. Doing his best to ignore the tears that were welling up their captive's eyes, he raised the cup. "You gotta sip on this... you hear? You gotta..."
> 
> Even as he remained limp against Thaer... his face twisted up in agony. The tears overflowing as his mouth shook and quivered, trying to get a sound out. His eyes locked onto Kjelhe's... his voice, a hoarse whisper.
> 
> "Help me... "

Luck. Runs. Out.  
Crawl from the wreckage one more time  
Horrific memory twists the mind  
Dark, rutted, cold and hard to turn  
Path of destruction, feel it burn  
Still life  
Incarnation  
Still life  
Infamy  
  
Hallucination  
Heresy  
Still you run, what's to come?  
What's to be?  
  
'Cause we hunt you down without mercy  
Hunt you down all nightmare long.

***********

His voice spiraled higher and higher. 

Soldin held him hard while he screamed. Warm tears fell onto his skin as the Elf flailed and fought against his hold! His hands digging fruitlessly at the Nord's arms as he attempted to suck in air, readying himself to let loose with another wail! 

Agnin let loose of the dying Mer, his body dropping onto the cold stone floor. Steam rising up, as the lifeblood pumped from the gaping wound in his throat, pooling around him. Kicking the body, he looked up at Soldin... "Shut him up! Just don't kill him! We need him!"

Agnin nodding to one of his men. The Nord pushed away from the wall, stooping down, he picked up a rock and walked towards them. 

Soldin's deep blue eyes met his... "Just enough to knock him out!"

Swinging his hand down, connecting with the Mer's head... there was silence.

Instantly, Athell's body fell limp in his arms. Soldin's mouth dropped, as blood poured from the Mer's head! Laying him down, he glared up at his little brother! "I said just enough to knock him out asshole! He's no good to us dead!"

"Shit! I'm sorry!"

Moving down closer to look at his head, he parted the hair where he'd been struck. A gash at least a couple inches in length ran just past the hairline above his temple. "Pull up his leggings while I wrap this! We're not havin' the same shit happen that did in the damned carriage!"

"You're the one pulled down his-- "

Noting the furrow in his little brother's brow, the confusion on his face. He lowered his voice even more. "I had to show him... Agnin has expectations, you know that." But even as he'd done it, he'd felt ill.

The only reason he'd bared him to Agnin, was to prove his point. That was it. Then the Thalmor had finally decided to open his mouth for the first time since they'd had him. And then everything happened so damned fast he hadn't had time to cover him back up.

Getting down onto his knees, Kjelhe moved around to the Mer's legs, tugging up his leggings and lacing them tight. Whispering to him, "You really think he is, who that Thalmor said he is?"

Attempting to pinch the wound closed with his fingers, "Aye... I do." 

The Mer had been tight lipped, even through everything Agnin and the others had done to him. Then, as soon as he saw this young one... calling him Master. He breaks and tells them to send him to Ulfric, of all people. Yeah, he did believe it. He also knew this wound needed stitching. The cut was too deep for just a bandage to suffice. 

Problem was, they didn't have no needles. Looking around to make sure he wasn't being watched, he ran his hand over Athell's head... his brother quickly standing in front of him, to shield the light as much as possible. 

He wasn't real well versed, just enough to keep himself and his brother from death... that's really the only reason he'd learned it. He had tried to keep it hidden. He also didn't want to hear it from anyone else, that he'd had to heal him. Just more bullshit to deal with. At least it closed up some... still bleeding enough though, that he wished they had a needle and thread. 

Folding the cloth, he placed it over the cut and wrapped the Mer's head... his brother, lifting each time he made a pass around with the bandage.

Kjelhe looked up at him... same blue eyes, same auburn hair... long, braided. Even with his face covered in war paint, he looked young. Too young to be livin' this kind of life. No choice... their pa had died in the war. Rot took their mother. No place to go, except on the road. 

Even with all that they themselves had done, they didn't really fit in with a few of the men here. Making him all the more thankful that Agnin had taken a shine to both of them, making him a leader. Giving him a bit of say over what the hell happened. That didn't mean he always agreed with everything Agnin did either.

They'd had the Elf for about two weeks now. First, when they'd taken him, two of their latest recruits... men that in his eyes, didn't really care about Ulfric's cause. They'd simply wanted to join, just so they weren't out on their own. Agnin had thrown the Mer to them, like raw meat to a pack of hungry wolves.

Back when the Mer still looked good... looked like a Mer. Soldin had laid with a male before... hell, he'd laid with a Mer before. He'd be the first to admit, and he wasn't ashamed... Mer males, were an attractive lot. But his were willing. He _and_ his brother, would take no part in rape. Male or female. 

Agnin had sat back in his chair, suckin' down a bottle, while his two newest held the Mer down and fucked him till he bled. The whole time, the Mer was silent. Didn't even let out a whimper! Soldin and his brother, had stepped outside. Goin' around to check on the horses. His brother looking at him the whole time, with these looks... like, he wanted to go in there and do something about it. 

Same way he had, when those two assholes had gotten hold of a Dunmer merchant. Soldin had pulled them off her, kickin one of em til they were all bloody. Takin' em back to Agnin, all busted up inside. He told him then, 'I'll take what I need to take, but I'm not a fuckin' animal! An I'm not gonna live like one! Now, you wanna keep us around, that shit's gonna stop!'

Looking up, the carriage driver met his eyes. Squatting down, his shaking hands were folded under his chin. Holding onto the leather cap so tight his knuckles were showing white. His eyes constantly flickering back to the dead Mer on the floor... then away. He didn't want to look... but his eyes kept going back to it. Almost like he couldn't believe it even after seeing it.

The Nord was terrified. Terrified, not only of what would become of him... but what he had just seen. He could see it in them... this would haunt him until he died. Letting out a deep breath, his mind went back to their ride here.

Hell, he'd told them all! The damned Elf was to remain whole! Untouched! No sooner then they took off, he and his brother on horseback. The Elf started screaming... he'd rode up next to the driver, his brother on the other side. Glancing back, they've got the elf pinned down, two holding his arms, an the one pulling off his leggings. Laughing and cackling like a bunch of fucking idiots! While the young Elf cried and screamed, trying in vain to fight them. Looking at the driver's face, the Nord was damned near biting his lip off trying to keep silent!

Bringing his horse around to the rear, one of em had the Mer's legs pinned up and over their shoulders, fixin to mount him. "What'd I just fuckin' tell you!"

The Nord halted, but didn't move away. Glaring up at Soldin, his eyes then shifting to his partner. Just then his brother had come around side of him, drawing his bow. "Do what he said!! Mers got to be whole till we get to Agnin!"

Pushing the Mer's legs away, they all backed away and took their seats, righting their clothes. The young Elf, bawling and scrambling to get his leggings back on. Bastard had looked up at Soldin... "Do you really think it matters if we fuck him! He's just gonna get carved up like the other one."

His partner chuckled. "He's not no red head neither... just so you know." Elbowing his friend, he laughed... "White blonde and just as _sooofft_ as a baby's arse!"

He hadn't said anything then about it. But now it plagued him. Knowing what he knew... who this Mer was. Why in all of Oblivion would they send someone of his importance here? None of it made any sense. He had faith in Ulfric though. The man would see the Mer for the opportunity that he was, and he would take advantage of it. He had to! Then at least because of his value, the Mer would more than likely be spared. What the Thalmor had said, made sense. He was worth a lot more to their people alive. Hopefully, the Dominion would be willing to negotiate to get him back. And _that_ would help their people. A lot! 

Just thinking about the Thalmor again, sent his mind to places he wanted to forget. He knew the Mer was their enemy. He also knew what had befallen some of their people... his own people, probably right at the hands of the very Mer that now lay dead on the floor of the ruins right next to where he sat. But he couldn't do that to anyone. Enemy or not.

He could kill an enemy. But to strap someone down and cut off pieces of their face... their head. Cut off fingers and toes. Shit! Agnin was out of fucking control! 

He _and_ his brother had both caught shit for not staying in the ruins to watch. Agnin hadn't said a word to either of them though... he didn't care.

Kjelhe had been so distraught over it, he didn't eat for two days. Neither of them could step foot in there for awhile. Smelling the blood and the Elf sitting in the cage right in front of them, looking like something straight out of a Godsdamned nightmare. Both of them had gone to Dawnstar for a couple of nights. Caught hell over that too.

His brother's voice, bringing him out of it... "Do you think once we get him to Ulfric, that he'll let us into the city? Pardon us? Like Agnin said?"

Soldin swallowed, laying the Mer's head down. "I hope so brother... I do."

Straightening the Mer's robes, Kjelhe smiled... his white teeth, a bright contrast to the black face paint he wore. Berries mixed in with bear fat. Damned hard to get off, but it protected their skin from the harsh cold. Wouldn't chafe. "Would be nice to live in a city... have a home to live in again."

Fighting to smile back at him, it was weak at best. "Yeah... "

He knew one thing... when they were done with this, they would be done with Agnin. Agnin _and_ the others. In fact, when they were done with this, he'd be puttin' a few of em out of everyone's misery. Doin' the world a damned favor! Maybe then, he and his brother both, would be able to sleep at night.

Agnin stepped back inside, standing there... watching them. They could tell something was wrong, just by how he was acting. All quiet... it wasn't right. He'd waited for this, he should be ecstatic. Running his hands through his dirty blonde hair, one arm lowering to point at the bag on the floor. "What's in this? Has anyone gone through it yet?"

Both just shook their heads. "Told em to keep it whole till we got here... let you decide." All but one of them had gathered inside, watching. 

Undoing the clasps, Agnin rifled through it. "Clothes... potions, bandages, food..." Lifting out the bottle of wine, he looked it over... setting it back inside and then lifted out a large sack of coin. "Gold." 

Taking out two large bags, he walked over and stuffed them into his own. Soldin and his brother, watched him... exchanging silent looks. Straightening up, slinging his bag onto his shoulders. "We're leaving... tonight. Get your gear."

Coming in out of the cold air, Valund walked up to him. "Horses are ready... carriage too... found this." 

Kjelhe glanced up as the man held out a ring to Agnin. He was the only one out of the lot of them, that he and his brother trusted at all. He'd helped capture the Thalmor, but wouldn't take part in the torture. He didn't leave like they did though... he had just turned his back and walked outside. When the shit was takin place in the carriage, he'd damned near jumped out. Didn't dare try to stop them all on his own... done that once, and about got beat to death, until Soldin and his brother got there and put a stop to it. Since then, he'd pretty much stayed closer to them. 

"It was in the bed of the carriage." Any of the others, would have taken it. Not even telling Agnin. That's one of the things they liked about him... he was honest.

Taking it, he dropped it into the duffle and closed it up. "Might be important... Ulfric can decide what to do with it once he has him."

Walking to where their bed rolls were, they listened as the others began to scramble around, gathering their things. They had all been waiting for this. Agnin had promised once he made right with Ulfric, they'd _all_ be welcome. Ulfric wouldn't be turnin away his own, especially after this!

Holding up his hand, Agnin whistled to get their attention. "Not everyone! I'm only takin the brothers, Valund and the driver for now! The rest of you just sit tight. Once things are cleared with Ulfric, I'll send the brother's back for you all. Can't be rollin up to the gates of Windhelm with the whole lot of you!"

Tension immediately filled the air as the other three men halted what they were doing... looking between each other, then back to Agnin.

"What's the point in that!" Throwing his hand up, pointing in Soldin's direction! In just two steps, Olfeig was in Agnin's face! "Do you think he's actually gonna come back here for us?! He wouldn't piss on me if I was on fire!"

Drawing his dagger before any of them could even react... Agnin's arm came round, driving it down into the Nord's face! Everyone moved back, stumbling over each other as Olfeig dropped to his knees, blood pouring from where the dagger lay buried in his forehead. His body falling over in between the two Elves, his arms and legs jerking, eyes and mouth still moving... then finally going completely still. 

Agnin's voice boomed throughout the small ruin as he spread his arms out wide! _"DOES ANYONE ELSE HAVE A PROBLEM WITH THE PLAN!"_

Thaer backed up slowly, coming to a stop next to Soldin. His cap still in his hands... but now, it was up to his mouth, covering it. The two remaining, just shook their heads... complete incredulity on their faces as they looked at him... mouths open, as if he was insane. No one else would question him. 

They also knew that they were being left behind. No one would be coming back for them.

Turning around to the driver, Agnin fastened the bearskin cloak around his shoulders... lowering the hood. The head of a bear. The only thing visible, were his nose, mouth and chin... covered in beard, dark honey blonde. "Once we get to Windhelm, you and your carriage are free to go. I don't have no quarrel with you... understand?"

Silent, Thaer nodded. "You're driving... the brothers here, will be on horseback with me." Turning to Valund, "You're gonna be in the back, takin care of our prize."

"Aye..." Stooping down, Valund scooped up the Elf, slinging him over his shoulder like it was nothing. Kjelhe followed the red haired Nord out to the carriage, hauling Valund's gear as well as his own. Climbing up into the carriage, he lay their gear onto the seats. Getting out his own bedroll, he lay it down... then the furs. "He's gonna have to be wrapped up good... don't want him freezin."

Laying the Mer down, Valund scowled. "What are you now? his momma!"

Not even sparing him a glance, he proceeded to bundle the Mer up. "Piss off Valund! They don't take to the cold like we do! If he dies..." Getting quiet... his eyes flickered up to doorway of the ruin. The driver was just now heading out, wearing some of Agnin's extra gear. They were hauling out weapons and food. Didn't look like they were leaving much for the two others... "If he dies, we're all fucked!"

"Aye... now hush about it!" Valund laid out his bedroll and sat down, his back resting against the back wall of the carriage. Looking up at Kjelhe, he gently lay the Mer's head on his lap. Smiling at him sarcastically... "See... he's fine, mother."

Slinging his bow, he rolled his eyes as he mounted his horse and settled in behind the carriage. Agnin and his brother, would ride up along side. 

The sun was just rising good... sky was clear. That was good. Give them some warmth, there was a long way to go. One of his arms draped over the seat next to him, his other over the Elf. Valund watched as they rode away, the two they were leaving behind, standing in the doorway of the ruin, watching them.

************

Three days, it took to reach Windhelm. When their ruins hadn't even been a league from Dawnstar. The first stop had been Valund, crying out to them that the bandages around the Mer's head were blood soaked. And Kjelhe fessing up, that he had accidentally hit him a little too hard. 

Digging into the duffle, Valund had gathered the bandages, while Agnin healed him further. The furs up around his neck, were red with blood... right along with Valund's breeches where the Mer's head had lay. He still hadn't regained consciousness. Kjelhe had stepped behind his brother, while Agnin checked for a heartbeat. After hearing one and getting a good earful of their leader's fury over it... they moved on.

When he finally did waken, all he did was stare off into nothing. Valund, pouring a healing potion down his throat, barely getting water or anything else in him as they made camp. 

Sitting around the fire on that last night. Soldin, poking the embers around with a stick. "He's in shock... if we don't get something down him, he'll die."

Athell lay on Kjelhe's bedroll facing the fire, a blank expression on his face... the young Nord curled up around him. "He's freezing..." Lifting his hands, he briskly rubbed along the Mer's arms and back. He should have felt warm, laying there right next to the fire.

Valund scooped the cooked meat from the pot over the fire. Handing it out to all of them, he poured the broth into a wooden cup. "Let that cool Kjelhe, then try and get him to take some. Force it if you have to."

Agnin sat quiet. He didn't say a word. He just stared into the fire, his eyes periodically flickering over all of them. 

Thaer scooted closer to the young Nord, helping him sit the Elf up. Leaning Athell's back into the driver, Kjelhe lifted the cup... blowing on it, taking some to check the heat. Taking Athell by the jaw, he gently moved his face toward his.

Looking into his eyes, he spoke quiet. "Athelleen.... hey." 

Patting his face lightly. Finally the Mer's green eyes moved to his... very slowly, some recognition seemed to come back. He almost wished it hadn't. The pain that was so apparent in the young Mer's eyes, made his guts churn and his heart ache. Doing his best to ignore the tears that were welling up their captive's eyes, he raised the cup. "You gotta sip on this... you hear? You gotta--"

Even as he remained limp against Thaer, his face twisted up in agony. The tears overflowing as his mouth trembled and quivered trying to get a sound out. His eyes locked onto Kjelhe's... his high voice, a hoarse whisper. 

"Help me... "

Swallowing... the tightness in his chest was becoming unbearable, his eyes flashed over to where his brother sat, watching the exchange. He had to keep it together, he couldn't show weakness in front of Agnin... not over this! Not over one of them, no matter what his heart felt. "I am helping you..." Lifting the cup... "See... I'm keepin' you alive. You gotta drink this..."

Thaer held him as he began to sob. His slender frame, shaking against his. Speaking to the Mer as the cup was raised to his mouth, pouring little bits of the broth in. "You gotta swallow it now... you can't get all wet."

Finally, he swallowed. Turning his head away, Athell closed his eyes and got quiet. Thaer helped to get him laid down and Kjelhe settled back in against him. His arms wrapped around the Mer, his eyes staying fixed on the back of his head. Anywhere, but on his brother... who had the same look on his face, that he knew was on his and the driver's. He wouldn't look at Agnin, he didn't dare! He could feel the weight of the man's stare on him... on the Mer... the driver... his brother. He could feel the disgust and hatred as it rolled off from him. 

He was looking for signs of betrayal. Looking to see where each man's eyes were. Reading their expressions...

No one spoke.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> When I decided to write this story, one of the things, that kept coming to me, was the relationship between Ulfric and Athell. Ulfric's supporters and how differently, many of them feel.
> 
> Athell's being able to see for the first time, how his own people are effecting those of Skyrim. Also, an Ulfric sympathizing Nord's view and realization into some of the things that _his_ own people are doing.
> 
> A view into the life of and a look from the enemy's eyes. This will be a major part of the theme from here on out.
> 
> Lyrics ~ All Nightmare Long  
> By: Metallica


	25. Absolution {Part One}

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Soldin's eyes narrowed, his sword hand was now on his thigh... index finger, tapping against his leggings. The driver looked like he might break any second, staring down at the ground before him. Valund had sat up... waiting... watching.
> 
> "I haven't forgot anything! And no one's sayin that we should turn him loose! Thalmor was right! The best place for him is with Ulfric! helping our lot!" Lowering his voice, his head tilted, trying to see into him... see if anything was actually getting through all of his blind hatred. "There are many in Skyrim, Agnin, that want freedom! An end to all this killing. And _not_ just our people!"
> 
> Huffing out a sharp breath of air at him! Agnin nodded his head, his lips pursed up in irritation! "Yeah! See, now the problem with that Soldin! is this..." He leaned forward, his arms stretched out wide! "There's not supposed to be anyone else _IN OUR LANDS!!! EXCEPT FOR OUR PEOPLE!!"_

************

"You pity him, don't you!"

Finally, Agnin's eyes moved away from the red glow of the fire, settling on his. His upper lip curled up in disgust! "You actually _feel_ sympathy for that... that _piece of shit!_ Don't you!!"

As much as he wanted to just ignore him, Soldin met his gaze. Valund and his brother both watching... the driver just kept his eyes on the fire. As if he could just disappear by looking away, the way they all wanted to right then. Soldin nodded. He wouldn't fear him! He would speak the truth to any man! And be damned with the consequences!

"Aye... I do!"

Even in the darkness, distorted from the fire's glow, Agnin's face burned with fury! Spitting into the fire, instead of at him. Soldin knew that's what he would've preferred to do. But Agnin wasn't entirely a fool, he knew he was outnumbered. If they chose to eliminate him, it wouldn't be too hard. But, _he_ was their key for pardon. The pardon they all wanted... absolution. Acceptance.

Throwing his hand up to point at the elf that Soldin's brother was wrapped around. "No _true_ Nord sympathizes with their kind!"

Soldin's hand squeezing the bottle of mead that it held so tightly, the glass threatened to give way. "I'll not defend my blood, to _any_ man! Ever!" 

His eyes locked onto Agnin's! "He's a boy! Agnin! Just a boy!" The hand that held the bottle, moving up to point at the Elf. "You can tell that he's not one of them! Even if he is who that Thalmor said! He's not like them!"

Daring to speak from behind the Mer's head, Kjelhe shot a glance in his brother's direction... he was speaking to Agnin, he was just afraid to look at him. "Never seen a Thalmor cry Agnin. Don't it seem like he's afraid of us?" His voice stammered, "I mean... you shoulda seen how he acted when we pulled him out of the carriage. He started bawlin' right then."

Looking back down into the fire... a deep, rumbling chuckle escaping as he licked his lips. "So... you see some tears and now you all want to set him free! You feel bad for him!" 

Agnin's voice kept getting louder and louder by the second! "You just forget! _EVERYTHING!!! THAT THOSE FUCKIN BASTARDS HAVE DONE TO OUR PEOPLE!!!"_

Soldin's eyes narrowed... his sword hand now on his thigh, his index finger tapping against his leg. The driver looked like he might break any second, staring down at the ground before him. Valund had sat up... waiting... watching. 

"I haven't forgot anything! And no one's sayin that we should turn him loose! Thalmor was right! The best place for him is with Ulfric! helping our lot!" Lowering his voice, his head tilted... trying to see into him, see if anything was actually getting through all of his blind hatred. "There are many in Skyrim, Agnin... that want freedom! An end to all this killing. And not just our people!"

Huffing out a sharp breath of air at him! Agnin nodded his head, his lips pursed up in irritation! "Yeah! See, now the problem with _that!_ Soldin! is this..." He leaned forward, his arms stretched out wide! "There's not supposed to be anyone else _IN OUR LANDS!!! EXCEPT FOR OUR PEOPLE!!"_

Soldin watched... silent, as Agnin finally settled back against the stump he was seated at. There would be no reasoning with him, he knew that now. Hell, he should have known that way long ago. "I'll not hate an entire race, simply for what some of them do!! I'll not! That's a fools way Agnin! _Not_ mine!"

Everyone's eyes were wide! And they were all settled on Agnin, waiting to see what he would do.

Agnin sat there... the red in his face darkening, his body visibly shaking in his fury! His right hand no more than flinched and Valund was on his feet! His sword drawn and pointed at him!

Soldin and his brother's hands, both going to theirs, mouths open in shock!

Taking a step towards him, Valund's eyes narrowed... locked onto Agnin's. "There'll be no more death Agnin! We've all more than earned our place!"

Agnin just stared at up at him. He would've never thought that _he_ would be the one to do this. He always thought it would be Soldin... not him. Kjelhe was too soft hearted, only following his brother's lead. He was no threat at all. But Valund and Soldin together now... perhaps he should've given more thought over how he had stuck to him after the incident and his beating.

The others... they were garbage, they were waste. And he knew that. But he'd needed men like them to get the things done that he'd wanted done. Now he had the very thing that would win him a spot back with Ulfric! The others couldn't be trusted... hell, they all knew that. There was no way he'd want to be even seen in their presence, let alone allowing them inside of a city.

Raising his hands up slowly. "Do you really think that Ulfric will tolerate any of their kind in our lands, after he has the crown! Do you think-"

Taking another step forward, his sword still raised. "What Ulfric does is his business Agnin! And what we do, is ours!"

Soldin raised a hand to him, trying to get him to ease up a little. Regardless, Valund stood firm. "There are too many in Skyrim that want peace with the other races now! Ulfric will understand that, all he wants is freedom to worship whom we please! Just like the rest!"

Looking between them, "If you think that he will tolerate our lands, being overrun by Elves! You're all fools!"

Soldin shook his head, forcing out a frustrated breath! "We aren't being overrun, and the other Jarls would never agree to such a thing! There is more to this, than just what Ulfric wants! Agnin! Skyrim belongs to us all! And _all_ of the Jarl's have a say!"

Staring into the fire, his jaw firmly clenched and incredibly enough, Agnin remained silent. After a few moments, and evidently feeling that Agnin planned to stay on his ass, Valund backed away but kept his sword out and sat down, watching him. Soldin's eyes flashed over to the driver, the man's hands were tightly clasped together, resting against his mouth. His eyes locked onto his brother, who was holding onto the Elf for dear life.

Kjelhe stared at him from behind the Mer's head. Soldin swore this was the last time he wanted to see that look in his brother's eyes. He knew it wouldn't be though.

And even as it pained him, even as he dreaded it... he allowed his eyes to move down to their captive. As soon as they lay upon him, he regretted it.

The Mer was staring right at him. Such a look of despair in his green eyes... a look of silent pleading. Tears ran from them... over and across the bridge of his nose. His young face pinched up into an expression of painful realization. Soldin could see his body shaking as he wept. Watching, as his brother's arms tightened around him.

He wouldn't look into those eyes again... nor his brothers, not until dawn broke.

Turning and finally meeting Valund's gaze again, the redhead's eyes immediately shifted and locked back onto Agnin.

It was going to be a long night.


	26. Absolution {Part two}

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Instantly, Ulfric's guts started to churn. But before either of the men at his sides could even speak, he held up his hands, quieting them. Licking his lips, he fought to keep his voice even... there was no reason to shoot the messenger. And even as much as he fought it, a sharp breath escaped him! His deep voice, getting lower... slowly, he spoke. "This had better be worth my time. Did you happen to see what it was, that he is so eager to show us?"
> 
> "It appears to be a body my Lord... all bundled up in a cart. And he's not alone either... got a small group of men with him. They're waiting out by the Windhelm carriage." the guard's head shook slowly, from side to side... "definitely aren't any of our's."

You take a mortal man  
And put him in control  
Watch him become a God  
Watch people's heads a'roll  
A'roll, a'roll  
  
Just like the pied piper  
Led rats through the streets  
We dance like marionettes  
Swaying to the symphony  
Of destruction

*********

"Again, I say! I know the man, Galmar! And I don't believe that he will side with them! He's already told them that he wants to remain neutral! He's refused their soldiers entry into his city!"

Both of them leaned over the table, glaring at each other. "You know Whiterun so well, do ya! Then you'll know that Battle-Born also lives there! A soldier himself!! Probably reporting every move Balgruuf makes, to Tullius!"

Ulfric stood back, watching as his two most trusted, went nose to nose. Watching, as the spit flew from the redhead's mouth, his knuckles turning white from the force of the grip his hands had on the edges of the table.

Both men were sincere to the extreme in their beliefs... their ideals. And to him!

And even though they often tended to lock horns, he knew that neither of them would ever wrong him! Both would fight to the death for him! He couldn't help, but feel a great amount of affection for the two of them.

The corners of his full lips, just completely itched to curve upwards... fighting it, he turned to hide his face from their view, lest they be cross with him for smiling over it. Especially Galmar... he'd never hear the end of it if he saw.

"Battle-Born's are uppity blowhards! All of them! If that boy of his, that parades around in that uniform, actually got a taste of real battle... he'd be pissin in his breech and runnin for his Daddy! None of them are any real threat to us! And..." huffing out a quick breath, his eyes settling on Ulfric, "If I can stay on Balgruuf's good side... there are ways of shutting them up! They irritate the fuck out of him anyway! Even with his temper, he's a man of propriety... I'm telling you Ulfric... he'd probably be glad if they were gone. I know the Gray-Mane's would be for sure! As well as more than a few others."

As he spoke, his mind briefly wandered over it. 'There were also ways of getting information from them... they had a connection with the Thalmor. Hence the reason he'd found out about Thorald and where he was being held. Everyone had a weakness... something to lose... something that they wanted kept safe.'

Straightening up from the table, Saetad crossed his massive arms... his pale blue eyes moving between them. "I'm telling you, he's a good ally to have! The man's got a shrine to Talos in the middle of his city, with a priest that shouts his praises till sundown! Give me a chance to talk to him! I know I can get him to see our side of things! All he wants, is to protect his people... his city. Just like we do. The majority of his people... even the Mer there, are simply thankful the Thalmor haven't taken an interest in the place."

Instantly, Ulfric's eyes were on Galmar, waiting for his reaction. As if he already didn't know what it would be...

His housecarl stood back away from the table, matching the Dragonborn's stance... his arms crossed. His jaw set, he turned his head, feigning to spit on the ground! He knew Ulfric would be pissed if he were to really do it. And he knew better than to disrespect their home... the home of his King. His nostrils flared, color rising up in his cheeks. "Who cares what the godsdamned Mer think!! You need to remember who's side your on!"

Reaching out his hand, his finger pointed at his elder... he didn't care! Galmar's long white-grey locks, hanging freely. Early into the night he'd taken off his bearskin. It tended to be too warm to be worn inside for any length of time, especially during their heated debates. Ulfric shook his head, stepping closer as the color in Saetad's face began to match that of his hair. It wouldn't be the first time he'd had to step between them and it probably wouldn't be the last. But when it was all said and done, they were still brothers. Still on the same side.

"And I'm tellin you! I'll not take that path! It's not what I've been given this gift for! The Mer don't want the Thalmor's rule! And the more allies we have, the better! Ulfric, will be King to all!!"

Galmar took a step forward... the only thing separating them was the table, and they were both up against it! His voice raised. " _ALL_ don't belong here!!! That's what I keep tellin _you!!"_

His giant fist, slammed down onto the table!  The map, shifting from it's spot... markers sliding about.  His deep voice, boomed throughout the small room!  "I'll not disrespect Talos, nor will I anger Akatosh!  The Mer will end up fighting beside us, they will back us right along with our own people to keep free worship here!!  To restore freedom!!  We are all slaves under the Thalmor!!  Not just us, Galmar!"

Large hands came up between them, pushing on both of their chests.  A deep, but soft voice... one they would both heed, spoke. 

 "Enough..."

Both men, huffed out a sharp breath of air! Backing slowly away from the table.

So close, were the three of them, that they may as well have been brothers. Although they bore absolutely no resemblance to one another. One, white and grey from age, the other... their leader... their King, dark honey blonde. And then, there was him... deep, almost blood red hair. About the only thing they all had in common, other than their ancestry... were their eyes. And even those were each different in their shades of blue.

The entire night had been spent over the battle plans that lay atop the wooden table. And still they could not agree.

Yrsarald sat slumped over in the corner of the room, passed out. Half empty bottle clutched loosely within his grasp.

Knuckles rapping against the wood of the door frame, stopped it right there. And probably a good thing too, they were all tired. Emotions were running strong and each one of them, especially Ulfric, needed the solace that only sleep would give them.

Neither ale nor mead would do it. There was a whole crate of empties sitting in the corner from their night of debate. None of it had helped.

"What is it!"

Even as his stern voice, was aimed at the guard... his deep blue eyes never left the Dovahkiin's. Brother or not! He would never change his mind! Whiterun needed to be under their control! Balgruuf would side with them, or he would be defeated and they would take his city by force!

Fighting to focus on the guard's words... his mind was still too clouded from irritation, he hadn't heard a single word he'd said.

Finally forcing out a breath, Galmar stepped around Saetad and faced the nervous young Nord that stood in the doorway of Ulfric's war room.

"What!"

Turning, Saetad was so close, he could literally see and smell the sweat running down the Nord's face, from under his helmet. Even with fighting it, the corners of his lips began to curl, as the guard swallowed loud enough for all of them to hear... fighting the tremor in his voice, his eyes nervously darting between them and their Jarl. "Forgive my intrusion Jarl Ulfric... but... "

Stepping forward, Ulfric moved between the two of them... spreading his arms just enough to ease them back, giving the young one some room to breathe. Normally they were fighting to keep him calm, and it seemed that most of the last night and again this morning, he had been the one keeping it together. Perhaps it was the simple fact, that he'd had enough drink to put a mammoth on it's arse, and little to no sleep in the last forty eight hours. 

"Tell me what you need to boy..."

Literally, wiping the palms of his sweaty hands down the sides of his breeches while he spoke. "Agnin is out front of the gates my Lord, he's requesting that yourself and Dovahkiin come out. Said he's got something real important to show the both of you."

Instantly, his guts started to churn. But before either of the men at his sides could even speak, he held up his hands, quieting them. Licking his lips, he fought to keep his voice even... there was no reason to shoot the messenger. And even as much as he fought it, a sharp breath escaped him! His deep voice, getting lower... slowly, he spoke. "This had better be worth my time. Did you happen to see what it was, that he is so eager to show us?"

Nodding, the young man immediately felt better. His right hand, now resting on the hilt of his sword. "It appears to be a body my Lord... all bundled up in a cart. And he's not alone either, got a small group of men with him. They're waiting out by the Windhelm carriage." the guards head shook slowly, from side to side... "definitely aren't any of our's."

Ulfric nodded. "Gather two more men... and get Ralof! The three of you will serve as my escort."

"Of course they're not our men! They're trash! just like that worthless son of a pig!" Galmar stepped closer to him! His deep, gravely voice, following the guard out.

As soon as the young Nord disappeared into the Windhelm barracks, Ulfric turned to them. Rubbing his tired eyes with the heels of his palms... before he could even speak, he could hear Ralof's voice... his footsteps, coming up to the doorway.

Opening his eyes to them, he didn't need to see them to know there was concern written all over both of their faces, he could feel it. And both men knew, after last nights debates and the exhaustion that was consuming all of them, they dare not speak about it. He was in no mood to hear anymore lecture from either. "Lets get this over with... shall we?"

"We're ready Jarl Ulfric."

Nodding... he turned away, facing Ralof... another of his most trusted. In these times, that was all that he wanted around him. Raising his hand, "Lead on then." 

Tilting his face to the side, giving a glance to the two of them behind him, as they walked towards the massive front doors. "Let us see, what Agnin has to show us... then, I want a hot meal, a hot bath and my bed."

Saetad glanced back at Jorleif, he didn't have to say a word. The man stood up and went to fetch Ulfrics personal servant. He would have everything prepared and waiting when Ulfric returned.

***********

The bright sun glinting off the snow like diamonds, hit him full force. Was near blinding, it was. Pausing briefly, they all had to take a minute just to let their eyes adjust.

Closing his eyes against it just for a moment, Ulfric took in a deep breath and they started off. The closer they got to him, the more his stomach knotted up. He was hoping to never lay eyes on him again.

He knew it wasn't Agnin's fault that he had been captured. Just like it hadn't been Galmar's... or Rikke's. His eyes glanced over toward the redhead next to him.... it hadn't been his either. 

They had been surrounded, he knew that it was a trap. They had singled him out. It had been obvious. Agnin had been knocked unconscious... Galmar and Saetad both, had been severely wounded, just as Rikke had been... and yet, all had been allowed to live. Watching as he had been bound, gagged and taken. The looks that had been on his kinsmen's faces. 

None of them had ever been the same since.

He knew Saetad had beaten himself up over not being able to help him... they both had. After Helgen... after finding out the gift he'd been given... well... he knew it had been even harder on him. Thinking that perhaps if he'd only had that then... perhaps he could've stopped them. Mayhap things would be different.

Perhaps then, the only two men he'd ever really seen as his brothers, wouldn't be at each other's throats on a constant basis. He also knew there was a lot of resentment on Galmar's side of it. 

Glancing at him again... anything to take his eyes away from the worthless, piece of waste they approached. He harbored no resentment... no ill will. Each man dealt with things in their own way. 

The look that had been on Saetad's face that day as he lay on the ground, his blood pooling around him... watching, as they'd tied him up like one of their cattle... he would never forget it.

The look of pure and utter helplessness.

His eyes moved to the other side of him... to his housecarl... a man old enough to almost be his father. The corners of his lips itched to break into a smile. Again, he fought it.

The look that had been on Galmar's face, had been one of pure hatred... loathing. Looking down at the grey stones dusted with white... yes... each man had dealt with it in their own way. He also knew that sooner or later, they would settle it between themselves as well. But in the end, they would stand true to him, he would never be taken again. This time he would prevail.

His heart filled so greatly with pride and love for these two men, he thought it could burst. His chest swelled, and even as exhausted as he was, even with all that he still had to face, he was hopeful. Akatosh had blessed Saetad with his gift. The Gods once again looked favorably upon his people. They saw that their suffering needed to come to an end! That they would not bow to Elven masters!! That they... the Nords! would take their rightful place, as not only their own rulers! But they would once again, be in a position to rid their lands of their enemies!

These were the men that he needed at his side... at his back. Not the one that he now approached. And when he was done with whatever charade that Agnin had cooked up to get back into his good graces, he would be sending him packing. And Agnin would be lucky if it wasn't with his boot at his backside!

This had better be good!

Coming to a stop before him, Ulfric looked back to the left... towards the Windhelm carriage. He eyed the four men that stood there for a moment, then looked back at him. Breathing in deeply through his nose, he raised his arms crossing them at his chest. "What do you want, Agnin... "

Agnin's eyes, excitedly flashed between the three men. Regardless of how they looked at him, regardless of the disdain and irritation that he felt pouring off from all of them, he was completely overwhelmed with hope... excitement! For the first time in years he would be welcome back with his people and not seen as a pariah. 

He literally beamed at Ulfric from under the bearskin hood. Stepping aside, he motioned toward the fur covered bundle laying in the back of the open carriage. It had been backed up, the open bed facing them. He could barely speak without his laughter fighting to take over. Pushing it back, he swallowed it down. "My debt to you is paid Ulfric... I owe you nothing more." 

Just hearing Agnin speak like that, sent shivers through him... he felt as if every small hair on him was standing at attention. Saetad slowly walked over to the carriage, motioning for Ralof to follow. Galmar stood beside Ulfric, his eyes narrowing. Knowing that his King, his brother, was feeling the same thing that he was. Agnin had finally lost it. He was insane. Uncrossing his arms... his hands now fisted, went up to his waist.

Leaning to the side so he could see better... Ulfric looked into the back of the cart, the furs wrapped around the body were red from the blood that had seeped through them. The Dovahkiin looked up from cart, "Looks like a dead body to me Ulfric."

Letting out a chuckle, the drink in his veins and his lack of sleep the only thing keeping his temper at bay. "What is _this,_ that it would settle your debt!" His large, calloused hand, motioning towards the bundle. "What is this to me Agnin, but another waste of my time!"

Looking up at the Jarl from under his hood, he laughed. Galmar's hand eased over his shoulder, toward his blade. "It is the final pawn in the game..." 

Raising his hands, he slowly leaned over closer to the body, lifting the fur giving Ulfric a better look. His smile so big he showed teeth. "It is the leverage you need to win this bloody war!"

Galmar eased in between Agnin and Ulfric as the Jarl stepped even closer to get a better look, never taking his eyes off from him. Resting his arm on the edge of the carriage wall, Saetad's eyes leveled on Agnin, though he spoke to his Jarl. "As I said... a dead body!"

Hoisting himself up into the bed, Agnin knelt down by the Mer. "He's not dead! He's just passed out. Head wound's infected. Started with a fever during the night... haven't been able to wake him." Gently rolling the Mer over, Agnin rested his head onto his thighs, baring the back of his neck, showing the mark to all of them. 

Immediately, the men surrounded the cart... all but one. All eyes were glued onto the banner that graced the golden skin of the Mer he held! He smiled, watching the transformation as it overtook his once childhood friend... _yes!_ this would do it! He would once again take his place back amongst his people... in the city of his birth, this very night!

***********

Pure ice ran though his veins. He stood there looking at the Mer. Looking at that... that... 

Sweat broke out upon his brow... he swallowed. Before he could even speak, Agnin laid the Mer back down and covered him up. "Ulfric! This Mer... he's the heir to the Aldmeri bloodline! _THE SON!_ One of his Thalmor wizards confirmed it! Even called him Master!"

All he could do was breathe. He couldn't move... he couldn't look away. Even though it had been covered up... it was all he could see. His mouth fell slack, slowly he shook his head, his body started to shake. 

Moving over to him, Saetad slowly pushed him back, turning him from the sight. Galmar followed, joining them into a huddle just a few feet away from the rest. Whispering low, Galmar pointed toward the carriage. "We need to talk this over!" His eyes shifting between them. Ulfric was in absolutely no state to deal with this right now! 

"Get it inside..."

Both men looked up at him in shock! Breaking away from them, he literally turned and walked toward the city gates. Their eyes met just briefly, before both men were spurred into action! Turning to Ralof, "Gather that Mer! and have the other men escort the Jarl!"

Agnin jumped down, dusting off his breeches as if he'd touched something dirty. Looking thoroughly pleased with himself, and completely oblivious to the state that Ulfric was now in, he allowed the Mer to be taken. 

Saetad watched as Ralof picked up the unconscious Mer and held him close, almost gingerly it seemed. Letting out a sigh of relief, he knew he could trust him to take care with the Mer. What he held, was worth all the wealth in Skyrim. 

Leaning into him as he began to walk past, Saetad bent down into his ear... "Take him to Wuunferth... tell him to get him healed, do whatever it takes to keep him breathing! He's to stay in the Wizard's quarters, bound! And _NO ONE,_ and I mean _NO ONE!_ is to know who he is!!" Pointing to the men that were now walking beside Ulfric, "Make sure those men know that!" 

The captain of the guard's blonde head nodded silently as he walked past, taking his place behind the Jarl. 

Galmar eased up to him, whispering harshly. "What are we doin with _that_ asshole then!" Looking over at Agnin, his blood boiled! "Don't tell me-"

Breaking away from Galmar, he walked up to Agnin, taking hold of his tunic! Glaring down at him, he backed him up against the carriage bed! "Don't think you're completely off the hook! You can sleep in the barracks! Your allowed in the main hall only! And under _NO_ circumstances! are you to go near that Mer!" His fist tightened on the cloth, threatening to tear it free! _"GOT IT, Agnin!"_

Speaking through his clenched teeth, he could feel Galmar at his side, his steely blue eyes boring holes into the idiot that he had hold of! His deep, gravelly voice, cutting him off. "I find you bothering Ulfric, and I'll have your head mounted on my wall! You stay away from him until he's ready to speak to you!"

His eyes huge, he gaped up at them nodding profusely. No matter what, he would do whatever they told him! Anything! All that mattered was that he was home.

Backing away, Saetad released his hold on him, his eyes now going to the men waiting by their carriage. Raising his hand, he pointed in their direction. "Just you, Agnin... I don't care how you get rid of them, but they're not welcome inside the city."

"Sure... I understand. I'll take care of it. You have my word."

Galmar rolled his eyes and turned away, walking briskly to catch up to the others. This wasn't over by a long shot! Ulfric would need him... 

Saetad turned to follow. Everything in him, felt the need to walk backwards... felt the need to keep an eye on Agnin. He didn't trust him as far as he could throw him, and something was off. He couldn't quite place it yet, but he could feel it. So could Galmar. He knew they would end up having words over this, and that would be just the beginning.

Just the thought of having him in the palace... around Ulfric, with everything they had going on, just about made him sick. He had a bad, bad feeling about all of this down deep in his guts... in his heart. 

A horrible feeling.

***********

Agnin turned around, looking at them... watching how they looked at him with hope... watching their excitement grow as he started to walk toward them. 

His face broke into a smile.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lyrics ~ Symphony of Destruction  
> By: Megadeth
> 
> **Also, in this story, Ralof is more than just a foot soldier. So sorry over the divergence, but I needed his role to fit my story**


	27. The Enemy Inside

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Your guard has been tripled, rest well Wuunferth. I will check back in the morn."
> 
> "What if he wakes... "
> 
> Ulfric turned to him. He was bent over, tying the last of the binds. "Speak to him, then come and get me."
> 
> Wuunferth watched as the door to his quarters closed. Looking back down to the young Mer. When he woke, he was bound to be in for a great shock.

You see me now a veteran, of a thousand psychic wars  
My energy's spent at last  
And my armor is destroyed  
I have used up all my weapons, and I'm helpless and bereaved  
Wounds are all I'm made of  
Did I hear you say that this is victory?

**

A hot, steaming bath... a hot meal...

Staring into the stonework of his bedchamber ceiling, he had tossed and turned for hours.

The tips of his rough, calloused fingers gliding over the scars on his stomach from under his bed linens. Blinking, his vision swam in and out as he felt along each one.

Sweat broke out over his forehead in beads. His fingers tracing over the jagged edges of burns that had been healed. Flesh that had been burnt and then healed again... over... and over again. Until his flesh no longer resembled what used to be his, but was now just an endless sea of scar tissue.

Moving his hand down past his bare manhood, to the apex of his thighs... his right leg lifting, his knee bent, tenting the blankets. Moving his left hand down, gingerly he moved his manhood and balls aside, allowing his right hand to wander over it...

The scar of what she had almost taken from him. _What she had threatened to take._

Running from the back of his right knee, up the back of his thigh, all the way to the underside of his scrotum... the raised up scar from her blade. She had sliced almost a half inch in depth along the entire path of it. Telling him that she would make sure his bloodline ended here... with him.

The entire time he was strapped to the rack face down. Hands and feet bound. Naked. His legs stretched open wide.

His eyes closed, as he recalled the feeling of her blade as it had pierced his skin. The feeling of his blood, as it ran down the sides of his leg... hearing it drip onto the stone floor of the torture room. Feeling the warm tingle of tears, as they ran from his eyes, down his face. Feeling the scream that had built up in him, threatening to rip free from his throat!

As if him losing his manhood would matter if she planned to rid him of his life!

It was all to show him fear! To rid him of his pride.... any sense of security or safety he'd once had! To remind him that he was helpless. And she had surely done just that. By the time she was done, he had been thoroughly stripped of everything.

Clenching his eyes shut, a shudder made it's way through him as he remembered hearing her... her laugh.

She had stood in the corner of the dimly lit room, laughing... while her male Justiciar, her counterpart, had his way with him afterward. The wound she'd made in his leg all the way up to his sac, was left completely open and unhealed the whole time. As if his leg being opened up wasn't enough to bear!

He would never, _ever_ forget that Mer's face! Forget the sound of his voice!

The Mer had literally stripped free from his robes and climbed atop him on the torture rack, straddling him. Whispering insult into his ear as he panted over him, as he spilled his seed inside of him.

Finally climbing down, he had taken one hand to heal the wound on his leg, making doubly sure that it wasn't enough to keep the scar from showing... their intent. While the fingers on his other, were busy attempting to push his seed back into his leaking ass.

Tortured, humiliated... defiled.

The last time he had taken him, the very last time... he had lowered his golden face down to Ulfric's ass when he was done, and had literally bitten into the cheek of his ass! Leaving the full imprint of his teeth! Chuckling, as a cry had escaped him. Healing it only enough to keep infection at bay! To this day, he could feel that bastard's bite mark on his backside!

'A going away gift', as he had called it! Kissing around it and slapping his ass, before finally dressing and leaving him to her.

Rulindil... that had been his name. He was second on his list.

Allowing his leg to fall back down onto the bed, letting go of the proof that he would still someday be able to bear children. The proof of her lies! His hands fisted up into the bed linens.

Would he never be free from this? From these memories that haunted him?! Even now in his own city... his own palace, he was prey to them! _That fact_ gave her control, and _that_ infuriated him!

He needed sleep. And that would never come, ever. Now that the offspring of his enemy, the heir to all that he loathed and fought so hard to rid his people of, lay inside of his home. His father's home. His palace.

Just a few walls away from where he now lay.

Raising up, he sat on the edge of the bed and gathered his leggings. What he needed was one of Wuunferth's potions. A special brew that the wizard had put together just for him, to help him sleep.

In stocking feet and barely laced bottoms, he grabbed the door handle to his quarters.

He should have thought of this prior to even laying down, perhaps then the entire evening wouldn't have been lost in his futile attempt to rest.

**

Walking out of his room, he almost tripped over one of his own men.

The guard in the hallways had been tripled. And before retiring to his room for the evening, he'd overheard Saetad giving orders to send extra men and women, to not only the entrance of the palace and their city gates, but their borders as well.

At this rate they would need more recruits. He knew why and he knew that it was unavoidable. They didn't dare advertise who they held, the situation was no where near that point. Right now he couldn't even think of all the possibilities, the ramifications of who they held inside of this palace. What it would mean? What it could mean? But once word was out, he was sure that more and more volunteers to join their cause would be coming to them.

The guard moving aside, so he could enter. As soon as the Wizard's door opened, the strong scent of Thieves hit him full force.

An oil blend his great gran had told him was as old as their people. Older if the truth be told.

Herbs and fruit from all over Nirn. Traders and travelers from days long past, had brought together in Tamriel. An old healing remedy, made from the combined oils of all. Just the scent, brought back memories of his great grandmother rubbing it onto his chest as a small boy when he was ill.

Such a strong smell. The oils of clove, lemon, cinnamon bark, eucalyptus and rosemary. His great gran had told him that it had antiviral, antiseptic and antibacterial properties. _And_ that she had used it on his own grandfather when he was but a lad, and his father.

His happy memories immediately left him, as he remembered _who_ it was being used to heal.

Closing the door quickly, as to not release any of the steam in the air... he stood silent, and took in the slender form that lay atop the table in the middle of Wuunferth's quarters.

"Ah! My Lord! Come in."

Without moving away or even looking up from the alchemy table, the wizard's gravelly voice called out to him. "I know why you're here. You should've come and got this much, much sooner."

Turning to him, Wuunferth stopped... and watched.

Ulfric stood at the table looking down at the young, unconscious Mer that lay there. Taking the green bottle of sleeping remedy from one of his shelves, he quietly moved to the table and stopped across from him.

"Would you like to know about him, Ulfric?"

Setting the bottle down on the other side of the Mer, near Ulfric's thigh. "There is already much I can tell you, and he still has yet to regain consciousness!"

Ulfric's deep, blue eyes settled on him. A look that severely troubled him was set in those eyes, and he knew it was likely to only increase with time. Clearing his throat, he gathered a bowl of oils and herbs, rubbing it briskly over the Mer's joints. Elbows, hips and knees, his hands and feet.

Cypress and Sage.

Thieves for the fever, for the infection. Cypress and Sage, for the swelling and painful joints that he knew such a strong infection would bring. The scent of it aiding the Mer's breathing as well. He had stoked the fire, putting the remedy into a pot of water to boil over it. Removing his own robes, he stood in bare feet and breeches. A loose, thin tunic hanging open at the chest, his long grey hair pulled back in a leather tie.

Wiping the oil from his hands with a cloth, he lay it down at the feet of the young one. "It's a miracle he's not dead."

He moved up to the Mer's head. Ulfric stood there silent, looking down at him.

Taking his fingers, Wuunferth spread the Mer's hair. Showing an area a good few inches in length, where he had cut the hair to his scalp, and had stitched a very red and swollen wound.

"His head was opened up. All Ralof could tell me, was that one of Agnin's men had knocked him out with a stone. They didn't have enough healing ability to keep him from getting infection."

Looking back up to Ulfric, he grabbed another bowl, dabbing a piece of leather into it and running it softly over the new stitches. "Coupled with the infection he is probably ill from the elements, the drastic change in climate."

Letting out a deep sigh, he turned and took hold of his goblet, raising it to take a drink, running his hand down over his beard to catch any remnants. "What we have here, is a very, very sick Mer... a very _young_ sick Mer! I think that we are extremely fortunate that he still draws breath."

Crossing his arms, Ulfric looked up at him. "Will you be able to keep him breathing? That is what I need to know Wuunferth. I don't think I need to tell you of his importance."

Setting down his goblet, his gaze leveled onto his King. "No, you do not need to tell me. And yes, I will be able to keep him alive. But his healing will take days. And even once he regains consciousness, he will not be up to full strength for... could be weeks."

Slowly, he walked around the table. Blankets and furs had been piled atop it, making it soft and warm. The youth was naked, save for a thin cloth that had been draped over his lower midsection simply to cover his genitalia.

Talking as he circled the table, looking upon him as if he were a curiosity. "The stress of the situation could also compound his health Ulfric. You must know Ralof told me who he is. He shared what he knew so far, which wasn't much. But I do understand why it must be kept quiet."

Shaking his head as he looked over him, he straightened the remedies that lay upon the table. "It is evident from what Ralof was able to gather, this Mer did not plan to fall into enemy hands. Which baffles me even more about his being in Skyrim at all!"

He looked Ulfric right in the eye. "There is much that confounds me about this Mer."

Ulfric's brows gathered up as he listened, periodically glancing down at their new guest.

"To begin with... he was dressed in Mage's robes, _not_ in Thalmor robes. He, from what Ralof found out, had planned to go to Winterhold. To the college. Now why in all of Nirn, would he go there? When he could be taught anywhere else in his own lands, or in Cyrodiil, without risking his own safety?!"

Moving back up to Athell's head, he parted a different section of hair. "Look at the roots of his hair! They are flaxen! The most pristine of blondes..."

His weathered hand, moving softly over the young Mer's face and neck. "Look at the skin color. The fairest of golden skin tones."

He'd had enough! "Get to the point, Wuunferth! So, he's a pure blood!"

"His hair has been colored, Ulfric. Why?"

Immediately, the angry look on Ulfric's face was replaced. It wasn't a confused look. It was fear.

"Why would someone of his importance even be here, my Lord? Why? And unguarded! Someone of his magnitude would have had an escort!"

Removing the cloth from his groin, the Wizard pointed, actually taking the flaccid member in his hand and moving it aside so Ulfric could get a better look.

For a split second he had to turn away.

Swallowing, he took a silent breath and forced his eyes back onto the Mer. "He's a youth, Ulfric. Barely an adult. Look at his size. The noticeable lack of body hair. Even for one of them!"

Taking his hand, he ran it over the Mer's jaw and his chin. "Not a single trace of a whisker... not one! The hair on him is as fine as a babes! It takes them much, much longer to mature than it does us. He still has some growing to do Ulfric."

And if he was right in his age guesstimate, this Mer, may not be fully grown for another few years, and even then it would take years before he would have the need to pick up any sort of shaving utensil. Years, before all of his body hair was completely in, and even then it would still be as fine and downy as a babe's. Confined only to his genitals and underarms. He'd never in all of his years, seen one with hair anywhere else.

Many of the Mer hated body hair. From what he'd been told, many of the males shaved any source of it from their bodies. And most of the females didn't need to shave at all. Not like _their_ women did, if they did at all. Many Nord women didn't bother to shave, unless they were whores.

Wuunferth covered him back up as Ulfric walked over to the fire, looking within, before finally gathering a bottle of mead from the side table. Uncorking it, he listened. And as he did, fear settled in around his heart.

Gathering up his goblet, he downed it. His eyes on Ulfric's back. "Ulfric, the Thalmor absolutely _covet_ their royalty! _All_ of the Mer do!"

Walking up beside him, he lowered his voice. "I have gone over this in my mind for hours now and I cannot find a reason. I cannot understand, _what_ he is doing here! And _why_ has his appearance been altered?"

Draining the bottle, he set it down. He couldn't look at the Wizard. All he would see would be more questions, when he already had enough of his own. This Mer should be safe in the Isles... guarded! Especially with what was transpiring between their peoples.

None of it made any sense! None!

Walking back over to the table, he picked up the bottle of potion and headed toward the door, stopping and turning just briefly. "I want him bound! Even if he is weak, you will need to sleep at some point. You know who is allowed in here, right?"

Giving him a nod. He knew. The Dragonborn, Galmar and Ralof, were the only ones other than Ulfric, that were able to see him. He readied the leather bindings and began to tie one at each ankle and each wrist.

"Your guard has been tripled. Rest well Wuunferth. I will check back in the morn."

"What if he wakes?"

Ulfric turned to him. He was bent over, tying the last of the binds. "Speak to him, then come and get me."

Wuunferth watched as the door to his quarters closed. Looking back down to the young Mer. When he woke he was bound to be in for a great shock.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lyrics ~ Veteran Of The Psychic Wars  
> By: Blue Oyster Cult
> 
> I realize that some of the herbs etc, that I mention aren't mentioned in the game. But they are of course, really used for the remedies that I described. And being that alchemy is such a huge part of Skyrim and a great love of mine, I feel that it is entirely possible they would be using it.


	28. Unwelcome

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "I just thought you should know... I guess I thought that man would have told you. But that carriage that the body was in, that was Thaer's. Now I know that he wouldn't have just given that up, he was pretty upset that they had to set off on foot yesterday."
> 
> Galmar's hand was up to his eyes, rubbing them. It wasn't just in lack of sleep. It was something the old Nord had done since he could remember whenever he was stressed. Thumb to one eye, index and middle finger to the other... rubbing.
> 
> Saetad's hand flew up to his forehead so hard it actually made a slapping sound. He looked up at the ceiling in frustration, then back over to Agnin. There was evidently a whole lot that had been kept from them! A whole lot they still needed to know. And now he knew, that Agnin had purposely withheld it.
> 
> Already, he was feeling that a curse had been laid upon them all! A gods be damned curse!

_"Thats my carriage!"_ Thaer's eyes bulged from their sockets! Turning around, his hands flew up to his head as he looked about in a panic.

_"How are we supposed to get back?!"_

The others remained quiet, as they led their two remaining horses along the stone path. Four men. Two horses. Two horses that were exhausted and hungry, just like they were.

They would make their way to the warm springs and take shelter there before continuing on. Rest up and feed their horses. It would be much easier travel without dealing with the cold.

Thaer continued to sputter, now pointing in the direction of where his carriage had once sat. He looked at each one, as if still in complete disbelief. "That was my living! That... that was my _only way of life!_ "

Stepping in front of Soldin, stopping him in his tracks. _"WHAT AM I SUPPOSED TO DO NOW?!!"_

He couldn't even answer him, he just stood there taking in each man's face, his own heart was in his stomach. His brother looked like he wanted to weep, his face was practically dragging on the ground. He didn't even have the strength to raise his voice. Truth be told, he was in complete shock.

Just complete and utter shock.

The way that Agnin had approached them. The look that had been on his face. Then for him to say that they weren't welcome. That Ulfric wouldn't abide by _their kind_ being inside of his city! That the Dovahkiin... their people's savior, felt that _they_ were part of Skyrim's problem!

He had turned his back on them! Walked away... walked away and left them, with but one single bag of coin.

They had watched while Windhelm guards, had hauled everything of the Mer's out of the carriage and then led the carriage away.

Kjelhe's mouth had dropped, his bottom lip quivering. Had his hand not found Valund's in time, Agnin's head would have been rolling around on the stone path they now walked upon.

He also knew that once they had some food and rest, once they had dropped Thaer back off into Solitude, he planned to make his way back into Dawnstar. See if their left behind brethren were still around. He had a promise he needed to make good on!

Digging down deep, he mustered up enough strength to answer him, low and slow. "We're gonna be fine. We'll make camp tonight in the warm springs and then travel south... catch the carriage in Riften back to Solitude. It'll be warmer... easier on us."

Tears actually spilled over at that point. Thaer's hands covered his face! He no longer cared who saw! This was a fuckin nightmare! A never-ending, fuckin nightmare! He'd lost everything!

Valund's hand made it's way to Kjelhe's shoulder, halting him for a moment. Looking up at Soldin, he knew none of them could withstand too much more at this point. They all needed rest... food. They were all physically and emotionally spent. But, Riften?

Taking a deep breath, "Riften? Soldin, that's way out of our way, isn't it? I mean- "

Exhausted, blue eyes met his, then flashed back over to the driver. Thaer was wandering aimlessly about, sobbing quietly into his hands. His little brother looked like he wanted to join him. "Just... trust me. Okay? Look, let's make camp for tonight. We'll rest and eat... and think."

A pleading look that Valund had never seen on his kinsman's face, pierced right through to his very soul. Soldin's voice lowered even more, going down to almost a whisper. "Valund, I've got to think about this... please. If we don't take this time.... I... I..."

Nodding, the redhead knowing he needed the reassurance, gave his comrade the barest hint of a smile. "Alright, Soldin. We'll take tonight and think it over. I'm with you. Just so you know that... no matter what."

The whole way, they'd be thinkin it over.

**

The Next Morning.

"You mean to tell me, you didn't bother to get information from him,  _before_ you had him knocked out?!"

Sweat ran down Agnin's temples! Crossing his arms in defense, his brows gathered up! "The Justiciar I had in holding gave us the information! And the young Mer, confirmed it!" His bulging eyes swept over each man... from Saetad back to Ralof. "He wouldn't quit screamin! I had to shut him up!"

Saetad moved a step closer. "A potion would've sufficed! Don't you think?! Wuunferth said he's barely alive!"

Retreating until the backs of his legs hit the nearest bunk behind him, his arse landed down hard on the bed. "I didn't _have_ a potion to give him!"

A large meaty hand, came down onto the bunk post next to him. Galmar's angry face loomed over him, his hair had been retied. The bearskin, once again atop his head, blueish circles, like half moons under his eyes. "Where _is_ this Justiciar, that seems to have all the information?!"

Agnin swallowed, looking away from the accusing faces that bore down onto him, his eyes meeting the stone floor. "He's dead."

Ralof turned away, fisted hands resting upon his hips. "Hence the reason the young Aldmeri wouldn't quit screaming?" barely turning, he didn't need to look at him to know that what he'd spoken was truth.

Galmar straightened, glaring down at him. "He should have been in our hands as well! Don't you think, Agnin?!"

His face twisted, as his teeth found purchase on the flesh of his inner cheek. Setting it free, he swallowed the blood that swam through his mouth. "He wouldn't have made it. I did him a favor."

Ralof's eyes met the Dovahkiin's, then up to the door. He bellowed out! "You can all come back down now! Housecarl has something to share with the lot of you!"

The guard all filed into the barracks. The only ones not present, were those watching the borders of their city and those upstairs guarding the living quarters. Those, had all been spoken to last night. And truth be told, even after that, none of them had slept. They had all been too worried over who they now took up residence with.

The sick Mer was the least of their worries.

Men and women filled the area until all they could see were faces. Standing up on top of the bunk that Agnin now sat upon... he needed to make this quick.

Galmar's stern face gazed down over them. Placing his fists upon his hips, his loud voice boomed throughout the room.

"We've taken on a prisoner!"

Clearing his throat, he'd thought over this all night. Threatening the ones they'd already told to keep them in silence until all could be addressed. "I'm gonna tell you all, because in short while there won't be any way to keep it from you! Palace of the Kings, is now gonna be home to the heir of the Aldmeris!"

Loud murmurs immediately ran through the crowd. Raising up his hands to them, his voice got louder! "Quiet! Quiet! Now, I can't tell all of you just how important it is, that this stay among just those that are being told! At least until Jarl Ulfric, decides to contact the Thalmor over this!"

Saetad now stood on the bunk next to him, glaring over the crowd of guard and soldiers as the talking got out of control. _"SHUT IT!!"_ Raising up his hand in Galmar's direction! "You'll show respect! and listen up!"

Absolute silence.

Heat boiled up into Galmar's face as Saetad spoke. It wasn't the fact that he had spoken up in his defense, it was the fact that he'd felt the need to at all.

Tempers had been at a boiling point, _way_ before all this had happened. Before they had taken on their new guests. Of course, with their soldiers and their guard, he knew the situation and who they now held, was all that was. They respected him and always would. Of _that_ he had no question.

It was the infuriating redhead, that felt the need to waltz in and take control. Like he had the right to do that. After he'd abandoned them all. Abandoned them!

Galmar tore his eyes away from the Dovah, forcing himself to look over their faithful.

Saetad's voice laced with anger, his face, a deep red, as his eyes pierced every single one of them. His hand stretched upward, toward the ceiling, pointing in the direction of what now lay in the upstairs of their palace.

"This Mer, that we now have in our possession, is going to help us win this war!!"

Once more finding his tongue, Galmar spoke up. "The townsfolk are  _not_  to know! _Understood!_ No one else is to know, until Jarl Ulfric gives the order!"

Saetad cleared his throat, "The only ones allowed to see him, or be _near_ him, are the Jarl, Galmar, myself and your Captain! Now that's under the most strict of orders! If he is harmed or escapes, we could lose all the leverage we now hold! _Is that clear?!"_

Agnin sat there, listening as the guard and the soldiers were informed, that _he, himself_ , was not under _any circumstances,_ to be allowed not only to see the Mer... but their Jarl. That he was not even allowed out of the bloody barracks or their dining hall, until Galmar or the Dovah saw fit!

His face all but pinched up as he felt every man's, and every woman's eyes, fall upon him. Bastard Elf was being treated like fuckin' royalty! When it was _him_ that had found him! _Him,_ that had brought him to them!

Climbing down from the bunk, the guardsmen and women, filing out past them. Ralof met their eyes. They all knew it was only a matter of time and all of Skyrim, hell... all of Tamriel, would know of who they held.

Ralof shook his blonde head and looked down at the stone floor. For something that surely meant victory for their people, he couldn't seem to shake the horrible feeling that kept settling around his heart, and in his guts.

Looking back up at his elders... his superiors. Both of their gazes were glued to the ceiling above.

**

Settled in at his reading table, he poured the steaming water into his cup, watching as the tea leaves swam about the strainer. Normally it was mead or ale. Of late, even in the morn if he was being honest with himself. The stress of the war. Of what would become of all he held dear, if they did not prevail. His age.

He'd gotten more and more lax about his personal regimen.

Most folk tended to take _more_ precaution as they grew late in their years. His power and his knowledge, they had served him well in keeping illness and disease at bay. With all that he knew he could definitely hold off death until the Jarl was well into his grave.

Once he was gone, what would be the use in carrying on? If they were victorious, his heirs would appoint their own and he would no longer be needed. Taking a deep breath, he blew the steam away from the cup and lifted the strainer, setting it aside.

He also knew that his Jarl would be more than troubled if he knew of his thoughts. Having this Mer in his charge... the ultimate playing piece, that should guarantee victory for them. 

His hope had been rekindled. Having Saetad with them once more, and knowing who he was now had helped immensely. Now there was _no way_ that they could fall!

Everything that had gone through his mind since the young Aldmeri had been brought to him. He now felt the need to take better care of himself. It was his duty to make sure this Mer survived. To make sure that Ulfric was kept well, and that meant that he had to be in top health.

Ulfric, of course, would be under more stress now. As if he needed that. With attempting to stand between Galmar and the Dragonborn on a daily basis. 

Absent mindedly, he shook his head. What they needed to do, was work out their personal problems and pull together to handle all that was taking place. Take some of the worry from their King's brow, instead of laying more upon it!

It would do no good for Ulfric to gain the crown, if he was on death's door from stress. And the more he tried to tend to him... to aid him, the more irritated he became. Calling him a mother hen. Until he was about to collapse from stress from lack of sleep. Then and only then, would he allow himself to be cared for. 

Taking a sip... it had taken him months to heal him properly when he'd returned. To get him back to his full strength. But his mind and his heart... well, that was something that was beyond Wuunferth's ability to heal. That was something that only time would heal. And hopefully with this very situation, perhaps things were finally coming around to the right of it.

His eyes went to their guest. Hopefully this young Mer would truly aid them to regain his freedom, and not bring them but more strife.

His gaze moved up over him. He'd had to cover him during the night. The fire had waned and he'd been trembling all over from chills. Now with the fire stoked, he'd taken him back down to just the thin covering that he'd kept over him the day before.

Ahhh to have such youth again. He was almost envious. Moving up to the young Mer's face, his weathered hands froze around his teacup, as bright green eyes locked with his.

**

Walking up into the dining hall, Ralof looked down over the long table, as servants readied it for morning meal. As much as his body needed the food, his guts told him otherwise. Completely knotted up from the stress of it all they were. He watched as Agnin sat down, wondering if Ulfric would choose to remain in his quarters, or if he would actually join them.

Saetad almost reading his mind, started over to him. Probably to tell him that he should eat below with the guard for today. Give things a chance to calm down. Problem was, no one there thought Agnin should even be present to hear conversation that may be spoken. And Ulfric shouldn't be uncomfortable in his own damned palace! At his own table!

The doors burst open and they all turned to look. "Alfarinn, what brings you this far from the stables?"

Immediately, Saetad turned from the table. Galmar stood. If their carriage driver came way up here, there was a problem. Normally a guard would have been called or one of the stable hands. Glancing briefly at one another, them reading each other's thoughts... feelings. This was becoming a habit as well.

Wiping the snow from his boots, he looked over at Agnin and raised a hand to Ralof, gesturing him to move in closer. Then another to the Dovah and the housecarl.

Lowering his voice. "Got a stable hand watching my carriage. Look, I thought you all should know..."

Giving another quick glance toward their guest. "One of those men that came here with him yesterday, was the carriage driver from Solitude. Name's Thaer. I know him. Have since I was just a lad... good man."

All three of them looked over at Agnin, sitting at Ulfric's table, eating breakfast as if not a thing in the world were amiss.

"I just thought you should know... I guess I thought that man would have told you. But that carriage that the body was in, that was Thaer's. Now I know that he wouldn't have just given that up. He was pretty upset that they had to set off on foot yesterday."

Galmar's hand was up to his eyes, rubbing them. It wasn't just in lack of sleep. It was something the old Nord had done since he could remember, whenever he was stressed. Thumb to one eye, index and middle finger to the other... rubbing.

Saetad's hand flew up to his forehead so hard, it actually made a slapping sound. He looked up at the ceiling in frustration, then back over to Agnin. There was evidently a whole lot, that had been kept from them! A whole lot they still needed to know. And now he knew, that Agnin had purposely withheld it from them!

Already, he was feeling that a curse had been laid upon them all! A gods be damned curse!

Gently, Ralof's hand met Alfarinn's shoulder. "Do you remember what direction they went in?"

One of the servant women brought him over a basket, warm food and drink, to head out into the frigid weather with. Nodding his head in thanks. "Aye. Headed over to the springs. That's the last I seen of them."

Turning toward the massive doors, he paused. "I thought it odd yesterday and I would've said something then, but _the way_ that he told them what he told them."

Taking hold of the driver's arm, Saetad leaned in to him, speaking low. "What exactly did he say?"

Watching them, while his hands nervously picked apart his bread. They had all turned and were now staring at him. The carriage driver opened the doors to the hall and walked out. They were now heading in his direction. His stomach moved up into this throat.

Before they could even get close to the table, one of the guard from the living quarters ran out into the hall, heading in their direction. Running up to them, her arms stretched out, her hands gesturing for them to get close! She whispered. "Mer's awake! He's awake! Wuunferth told me to fetch the lot of you! Right away!"

Galmar's hand flew up, pointing directly at Agnin! Yelling at the guard that stood at the doors. "Watch him! He doesn't move from this spot till I get back!"

The guard stared at Agnin. "Yes, housecarl!"

**

Wuunferth rushed back into the room, closing the door behind him. A soft voice... an Altmeri accent so strong, his ears had to actually adjust before he could understand him. He hadn't heard an accent that strong in so many years!

"Please... please... help me! Please!"

Pulling his long gray hair back into a tie, and for the time, ignoring the Mer's pleas... he gently slid one hand under the red stained, silken locks, lifting his head, so he could get him to drink. Watching, as tears made their way down the Mer's face, into the hair alongside his temples.

"All your questions will be answered once you drink young one! Your body is in desperate need of fluids! Now, please drink."

Placing the cup of tea to the Mer's lips, Athell sipped. It actually tasted good and it would have been a welcome relief, if he wasn't so terrified. Attempting to move his arms and legs, he found himself bound. He was naked... and bound. His eyes bolted about the room! Taking in every corner! Looking for the other men! He was in a place he had never been, and this man, he'd never seen! His chest... his whole body, hurt.

As soon as the tea went down, it threatened to come back up. Swallowing to hold it down, he started to cough. A horrible, deep, barking noise ushered forth from this throat. His lungs felt as if they were on fire.

Taking a pillow, Wuunferth lifted his head and slid it underneath. He needed elevation. Now looking at him, he wondered how he would do that and yet keep him bound. Eyeing the table as he fetched a healing potion. He would figure something out. He had to. Ralof could help him with that once he arrived. He was a good man.

Holding the bottle of potion to his lips until it was all down. He watched the Mer, as panic took hold of him. The endless flow of tears. What he needed to do, was talk to him about how his body felt... ask him questions. But just from listening to him breathe, each breath, sounding like it was working it's way up through sludge. His fever, chills... his cough. He knew what that meant.

He wanted to reassure him. He needed to know, that no one there meant him any harm. He knew that Ulfric, after taking so many steps to keep him safe... to keep him alive... surely, he wouldn't jeopardize that. Surely, he wouldn't risk the Mer's life, along with what promise his presence here held for their people! Their cause!

He could hear them coming and even though he'd had no choice but to call for them. It was his order. They would have to keep it brief. He needed to get fluids down him while he was still conscious.

Gently, he lay the Mer's head down and walked to the door. Every step... hearing that soft, raspy voice sobbing out.

"Don't let him hurt me! Please..."


	29. Through The Cracks

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wuunferth turned to him, ushering him forth. He'd not heard a single word they'd spoken. He still couldn't break away from that sound. He just moved, almost as if his feet had a will of their own. Swallowing, the door opened and he could finally see the one that lay within. Faintly hearing the words from the old Mage's mouth behind him as he spoke to them, reassuring them that they would be able to hear what was taking place in the room. At least for now.
> 
> Hoping that would be enough to appease Ulfric until the young Mer had his strength back. "I'll keep the door ajar..."

**

On a dead run toward the Wizard's door, they all but ran into one another in the tight hallway. All of them eyeing one another, breathing hard. A mixture of pure exhaustion and adrenaline coursing through each one of them.

Galmar's arms instantly went up, allowing room for Ulfric to get to the door first. As much as they all wanted to know what information the Elf held, as much as they all wanted to be the first one in that room, it would be his call.

It should have been his call.

Of course, the only one of them that had gotten any rest was the old grey Wizard that now stood in the doorway. Now all eyes were on him. Not on Ulfric.

Wuunferth's hands raised up to them as he quietly whispered. The pungent smell of herbs wafting from the entrance hitting them full force. Not only from the crack in the door behind him, but the odor literally emanated off from him.

He was covered in sweat. His long hair was tied back at his neck, beard knotted. Wearing only a thin tunic and that was open, showing the salt and pepper hair that covered the old Nord's chest. Breeches and bare feet.

Even as badly as he wanted to see the one that lay behind that door, just taking him in about staggered Ralof.

The old Mage was normally in his heaviest of robes, his head and face covered to the point that it'd taken several years of him serving their Lord, before he'd gotten even a decent look at the man. And now, he was seeing more than probably any of them ever had. And all over this prisoner... this young Elf.

Wuunferth's eyes settled on his King. As much as he dreaded what he was about to say, he had no choice. "I beg a word, my Lord..."

From behind him, they could all hear the whimpers coming from the room. Pleas for help, in what sounded almost like the soft voice of a child, or that of a young woman.

Ralof turned his head, leaning slightly in attempting to hear it better.

Ulfric's brow gathered up. One hand nervously fingering the stonework on the wall next to him, the other one dug into his hip. Biting his tongue as he listened, fighting to keep his eyes on the Wizard, instead of the narrow view into the room behind him.

"My Lord... "

 _Who was the one pleading?!_ Sweat, instantly sprang up all over him! The dark stone of the walls felt like it was closing in. He couldn't get enough air! And what he wanted! _NO! WHAT HE DESERVED!_  was still beyond his fucking reach! Blowing out a harsh breath, he shook his head and stared up at a spot past Wuunferth's face. His arms now folded up defensively.

_My Lord... Enough with the formalities! He was begging for that Mer! Normally, he would have called me by my given name!_

Wuunferth's eyes went nervously up to Saetad's, then to Galmar's. His hands stayed in their raised up state, trying to keep their Jarl at bay. "If he sees you at this moment, Ulfric, the shock alone could kill him. He's not strong enough to handle that yet, he's begging for his life. We mustn't do anything to worsen his condition... "

Stepping forward, Galmar softly put a hand on Ulfric's shoulder, speaking low. "Perhaps it's not best right now for him to see _any_ of us."

Deep, blue eyes finally shifted to his. Knowing he at least had his attention, it didn't matter where he had gone to, he was back now and he had his attention. "Perhaps we should send in someone that doesn't seem like so much a threat... "

Lowering his voice even more, he motioned for Wuunferth to shut the door completely. He knew the hearing those pointy ears in the other room were gifted with. He needed to say this as quietly as possible, lest the Mer be onto them.

Moving his mouth right up to side of his face, his breath gently moving the hair around Ulfric's ear. "Perhaps we send in someone that can gain his trust, someone that isn't well known. Make him feel safe... then... "

Saetad leaned in, gathering them into a huddle.

Ralof stood still, staring at the door. He could still hear that voice, raspy and weak as it cried out. Swearing he could hear the slight creak and groan of leather, as slender arms and legs strained against their binds.

His mind flew to the few glimpses he'd gotten of the Mer when he'd still been in the cart. All rolled up in the furs, just seeing the back of his bared neck. The locks of hair that had fallen loose, so beautiful... and so tempting. The urge that he had fought to reach out and feel it, to see if it was just as soft as it looked. The urge to bring it up to his lips... to smell it.

To see if this one really felt and smelled like all the stories that he'd heard. Stories from those that had actually tasted of the forbidden fruit. Stories that were told quietly to only a select gathering and in the utmost confidence. How those that had loved the males, had lain with them and had become addicted. almost as if the Mer themselves were a drug. A drug so sweet and exquisite, that once they had a taste it was all they desired.

Even to the point that they would risk exposure, dishonor and death, for committing the acts that they could no longer keep themselves from.

The last story he'd heard, was out in a camp, just since the fighting had really began. By an old seasoned Nord, that even though he'd been well in his cups, had the wisdom to wait until the other men were sound asleep and then still had felt the need to whisper it to him. About his experiences, as well as other men that Ralof knew and would have never believed, had he not been hearing it from this man's very lips!

And how when the old warrior was finished and staggering away to his tent, Ralof had slipped away quietly into the woods. So deeply filled with his treacherous desires, he had taken himself in hand, having to actually cover his mouth with the other lest he cry out and give himself away!

Swallowing so hard when his hand had actually twitched and he'd come back to himself, forcing himself to grasp the hilt of his sword in the hopes that no one had noticed.

That tight, almost electric feeling that he'd gotten deep in his guts, running all the way down into his groin when he'd picked him up. Almost like the kind of feeling he'd gotten as a lad, whenever he'd snuck and done something _he knew_ that he shouldn't have and was waiting to get caught. Then... oh then, that triumphant feeling when he was sure that he'd gotten away with it.

The way his body had felt when he'd held him in his arms. So light, as if he'd been carrying a young maiden barely in her womanly years. The way he already knew as soon as he touched him, that he would kill _anyone_ that attempted to hurt him!

The way that he wanted to kill Agnin.

The force that it had taken him to get his expression under control when Wuunferth had ushered him out of his quarters the very minute that he'd laid the Mer down! Before he'd even been able to see him unwrapped... and bare. Just that revelation of what he'd wanted, had made him give his head a vicious shake! 

The complete shock and guilt he'd experienced over _every_ feeling and emotion in him, from the time he'd laid eyes on him until he was back into the hallway outside of Wuunferth's door... where he was right now, at this very moment.

The sounds of his superiors moving and speaking quietly beside him, brought his mind back to the present. He swallowed, once again focusing on the door.

Wuunferth turned to him, ushering him forth. He'd not heard a single word they'd spoken. He still couldn't break away from that sound. He just moved, almost as if his feet had a will of their own. Swallowing loudly as the door opened and he could finally see the one that lay within. Faintly hearing the words from the old Wizard's mouth behind him as he spoke to them, reassuring them that they would be able to hear what was taking place in the room. At least for now. 

Hoping that would be enough to appease Ulfric, until the young Mer had his strength back. "I'll keep the door ajar..."

For a moment all he could do was stand there and gawk at him. 

Almost as if he was oblivious of the struggling, weeping Mer, Wuunferth walked quietly over to one of the small tables on the far side of the room. Busying himself with bottles on the table, the fact that he was preparing something for their prisoner completely escaping Ralof. _He_ was fighting the war that now waged within him.

As soon as he entered the room and had a full view of him laying there with only a thin drape over his groin, he became completely erect. The sweet sound of his soft voice, it's rich, eloquent accent so foreign to his ears and laced with so much anguish... pleading. _That_ mixed with being able to almost see his entire nude body, was just too much to bear! It was like the Gods were taunting him! Torturing him! In full view of the most important audience he'd ever been tested in front of before! 

Wiping his palms on the thighs of his leggings, he fought to regain his composure and remember the task at hand. Remember who he was there for! Now that he had a good look at him, he could see just how young he really was. "Talos' sake... he's... he's barely grown."

The words were out before he could stop them and for just a moment Wuunferth paused, then went back to mixing. He wasn't used to seeing Altmer so young. In fact, he didn't ever remember seeing one this young... ever. Almost all of those settled in Skyrim were middle aged or seniors that had settled there after the war. Allies or refugees, like many of the Bosmer that were there. 

Still, he couldn't remember when the last time was that he'd actually seen an Elfling of any race. His eyes continued to comb over him, down his chest to the soft planes of his abdomen. Going over every muscle... every curve. So well toned, yet so slim. The slightest dusting of baby-fine hair, that started in a thin line just below his navel. The tiny beads of sweat that covered his golden skin, shimmering in the fire's glow.

His long, slender arms and legs were indeed bound, tied with soft leather straps. So he hadn't been mistaken of the sound he'd heard, dismissing it as a conjuration from some dark recess in his mind. That part that held all of his most secret desires.

Meeting those bright green eyes, seeing the fear and pain they held, Ralof licked his lips. He wanted to turn back and look at his superiors, whom he knew had to be pressed up against the small crack in the door behind him, waiting for someone to speak. But if he did that, they would know just by looking at him... seeing the terrified look that had to be plastered all over his own face, just how frightened he was! They would think him a coward!

Finally aware that his mouth was hanging slack, he forced it closed. His eyes roamed over the Mer again, attempting to stay away from those eyes. And even though it felt that all the blood had rushed from his face, down into his manhood, all he could feel for him was sympathy. A need to protect him.

_Blast his worthless flesh! Making him feel like the backside of a mule! Why did it have to betray him so! Especially now, when he was in the very center of all their vision!_

Glancing back finally at the doorway, he could see them, and that meant that they could see him!

Turning back to the Mer, a shock jolted through him! Wuunferth was standing next to the table, scowling at him. One hand at the back of the Mer's head, gently holding it up... a potion in the other. He was waiting.

Sweat had sprang up all over him! 'Gods!' the fucking room was unbearably hot! Swallowing, he forced his feet forward until he was as close as he could get to the table and met those eyes once again. His hand was shaking as he brought his finger up to his lips, attempting to quiet the frantic Mer. 

**

Athell's brain felt as if it were boiling in his head, and all the heat was trying to escape out from his eyeballs. The blonde Nord just stood there and stared at him. He could see movement beyond the door, but couldn't tell who it was. But someone was definitely standing there and listening! He knew it!

Hot tears flowed endlessly down his cheeks. The hair at his temples was soaked. The leather straps that he was bound with, even though soft, were cutting into his wrists and ankles. He knew in the back of his mind, that if he would only cease his struggles, the pain would lessen. But he just couldn't. The only thing that kept coming into his head was Molleenen's face. How he had looked... and how he had died.

 _He couldn't die like that!_

The Nord turned around, looking at whoever was standing behind the door, then turned back to him and started towards him. The old Nord at his side, lifted his head. Athell tried to scream! The blonde raised his hand up to his lips.

The sound that came out of him was more of a hoarse croak than a scream. A shudder ran through his entire body as flames erupted throughout his chest. And even as he was covered in sweat, goose flesh rose up all over him. How could he be boiling alive and still freezing to death at the same time?

Wuunferth moved his arm under the Mer's shoulders and raised him up as far as he could without undoing the binds. Speaking as reassuringly as possible, as it seemed that Ralof had lost his tongue. "Shhh now... no one will harm you! Please! You need to be still... "

Ralof's eyes widened as the Mer's chest heaved! His golden skin turning a deep crimson red, as he coughed up bits of mucus. It sprayed out from his lips. _Blood!_ Immediately, he looked up at the Wizard! "Blood! He's coughing up- "

The stern look on Wuunferth's face shut him up! The wizard shook his head. Both of them worried not only over the pained expression on the Mer's face as he coughed, but the flecks of bright red blood that stained the mucus coming out of his lungs. 

Ralof got down onto one knee and eased in closer to the Mer. As soon as he did, Athell backed father up against Wuunferth until his binds halted him. He was whimpering, his tears never ceasing. 

Ralof's hand moved up to his, touching him as gently as possible. He whispered, "Athelleen... you're safe now. I promise you, no one here will harm you. Please, you must be still and let us help you. Please... "

Even as he raised the vial to the Mer's quivering lips, Wuunferth watched Ralof. Listening to the words he spoke, and fighting to keep his eyes from going to that crack in the door. Fighting, because he knew that Ulfric hearing those words, he must be out there going completely mad! Not being able to come in and question this Mer. Not being able to take out all the rage and frustration that filled his every fiber!

"Listen now!" Wuunferth almost sounded like a scolding mother or grandmother, getting onto the young Mer to try and make him listen and heed his words! Just hearing him like that made Ralof smile in spite of himself. It also warmed his heart. 

"I'm helping you Athelleen! And so is he! He'll be assisting me in getting you better. Alright?! Now please calm yourself and let us help you!"

Finally, after a few moments, the limbs straining against the binds went slack. Probably more from exhaustion than him actually relaxing. Once the potion was down, Wuunferth lay the Mer's head back and bent down to get the ladle from the water bucket. 

Just briefly, Athell's eyes met his. The Mer's face crunched up into a grimace of pure agony, one that pierced right through to Ralof's very soul. He cried out softly, his body shaking as he wept. "Molleenen... Molleenen... pleeeassse don't let him huuurrt mmeee... "

Wuunferth lifted his head back up, ignoring his weeping and put the ladle to his lips. It wasn't that the words and their meaning were lost to him, he just couldn't miss this opportunity to get fluids down him. If he didn't, he would surely succumb to his illness. Once he was asleep, he would heal him further and just pray to the Gods, that all of his experience would be enough.

It had to be.

He couldn't let this Mer die. Gods! If he didn't survive, and his people found out whose possession he had been in. Well, he didn't want to even think of it! At least with him alive, they stood a chance of victory without complete slaughter.

Ralof stood, reaching up to smooth the wet hair back that was plastered against Athell's forehead, watching as he began to gulp the water down and Wuunferth trying to get the ladle away to slow his drinking. "Not too fast now young one. Taking too much in at once will only bring it back up."

Refilling it, he once again brought it up to Athell's lips, this time the Mer forcing himself to sip. Ralof watched him, taking in every inch. Being this close, being able to touch him... feel him, was not helping. His fine features; white blonde, gently arched eyebrows over those hurt-filled eyes. Exquisitely shaped lips, turned a rosy shade of pink. A beautiful, slightly aquiline shaped nose, and the highest cheekbones. His entire face just begged to be stroked. And those ears. _Gods! if he ever!_

Swallowing, he forced his eyes away and looked down for a moment. He had to clear his mind! 

He couldn't get the Mer's words out of his head. Looking back up to him, Wuunferth had set his head back down and was now squeezing a wet rag out over another bucket. 

He had to ask, he just had to. If he didn't, it would plague him! And as sick as the Mer was, it could be hours before he was able to speak again! "Athelleen... who is Molleenen? Who are you afraid of?"

Athell licked his lips as a cool, wet rag was laid over his forehead. Darkness was taking over and he couldn't recall a time when he had ever felt this tired. Fighting to keep his eyes open, they were so heavy. His vision swam in and out. The blonde man and his sky blue eyes, grew fuzzy before him. He could see his mouth moving, but the words that were coming out seemed so far away. "Athelleen... Molleenen... afraid... of..."

Exhaling deeply, his head rolled to the side, laying up against something warm and soft. His lips parted and he spoke, and then was gone. There was nothing but the peaceful solace of unconsciousness. 

**

Wuunferth stood still, watching as the Mer's head rolled against his hand, his green eyes rolling back as sleep took him over. His lips open just long enough to utter one word.

"Agnin."


	30. Tainted

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Within just seconds of him being in the room, watching them... he couldn't tear his eyes away. He was completely mesmerized by the changes in this man. This man that he had known so well, for so long. His Captain.
> 
> Of course that was what they'd wanted, wasn't it? He'd been chosen by them to gain the Mer's trust. And that's exactly what he was doing. His job.
> 
> If that was all, then why couldn't he look at anything else? Why couldn't he take his gaze away from them? Away from the gingerly way that he touched him, lingering purposely over every little spot. Holding him so gently, as if he would break. His face was so close to him as he lay him back down, that had he moved just a half inch further, their skin would have touched.

**

Standing behind Ulfric, Saetad, a good few inches taller than them all, could see well over his head. Galmar on the other hand, did not have that luxury. Instead, he chose to simply listen and stay at the ready in case Ulfric completely lost it and chose to barge into the room, doing something that they _all_ would regret, out of sheer, blind rage.

After hearing Ralof's words to the Mer, even though he knew their Captain was just doing what they wanted. What needed to be done to gain the Mer's trust. Those words cut Ulfric to the bone! He stood there, one large hand on either side of the stone framework of Wuunferth's door. No longer looking through the crack, he couldn't stand to.

His head was bowed, staring into the floor. The muscles in his large shoulders gathered to the point that his entire body it seemed had started to quiver. Galmar stood behind him, watching as if some transformation were taking hold of him. It was. 

Ulfric's fingers literally dug into the stonework as Ralof told the Mer that he was safe. That no one would harm him.

He needed to get him away from here! Away from this door and away from that Mer! But that wasn't going to happen. All of this, was just one huge reminder of everything that he'd been through. All of the old wounds that he, and those that were close to him, had worked so hard to help him heal, were now being dug open. It couldn't have been any worse if Elenwen herself, was residing there with them.

Just for a brief moment, he thought about that. Elenwen may have been the one that tortured him. But this young Mer, he was the Aldmeri heir. The heir of the Dominion. The very embodiment of all that Ulfric loathed! Having this young Elf there, in the very home that had been Ysgramor's. It was in itself, a blasphemy!

What this was doing to Ulfric's mind, his heart, he couldn't even fathom. And even though having possession of this Elf could mean victory, he truly feared for him.

His eyes moved up to the Dovah's and just as he'd thought, they were on their King as well. His crimson brows, gathered up in worry. It was the Mer's last word before he passed out, that finally made Ulfric's head rise again.

Standing there, staring in at them, everyone was completely still, waiting for him to speak. Waiting to see what his reaction would be. No sound, but the crackle of the fire, and Just as Wuunferth moved to speak, Ulfric's deep, rich voice finally sounded.

"I want Agnin under lock and key. He knows too much. If he gets it into his head that we're no longer his allies, I don't want him leaving... running his mouth."

Turning from the sight, putting his back up against the cold stone, he swallowed and lay his head back. It felt good through his tunic. He couldn't stand to look upon him for one more second and feel what he was feeling.

Right now, he needed to be strong, even if it was just in front of them. And the age old strength in the stone behind him, the crisp feel of the cold that came through it into his skin, reminded him of who he was... where he was.

This was his ancestor's home. This was his father's home. And he would be the King that they all expected him to be. That they all needed. He would be their strength.

He would keep telling himself that. Keep chanting it, like a mantra in his head. Right now he had to.

They both stood there, watching him, waiting for him to break. He knew that's what it was, and in spite of everything he'd just said to himself, the inner pep talk that he'd gone over so many times during his moments of weakness, he broke down and closed his eyes.

Just for a second, he needed this. Just until the tightness around his heart subsided, and the knot in his guts loosened it's grip.

He swallowed the liquid that pooled into his mouth. His body's way of preparing a smooth exit for the quick breakfast that he'd woofed down, right before the Mer had decided to wake.

He hadn't wept since the first weeks that he'd come back home. Then it had seemed like only total uncontrollable rage and complete despair, were the only two emotions that he'd been capable of. He refused to succumb to that again. To do so, would only be giving his enemy more control than they already had. And now, _he_ had something that was dear to _them._ He needed to revel in it!

And if he wept, it would be in secret. It would be alone.

Taking a deep breath, he opened his eyes. "It's alright... I'm alright."

Nodding more to himself than to them, "Where are the men that were with him? I need to speak to them."

Saetad forced his eyes from the self-satisfied look that sprang up on Galmar's face, back over to his King's expectant one. His heart fell into his stomach. "We need to find them. I sent them off after we got the Elf."

He stared down at his feet, afraid to look him back in the eye. "I wasn't thinking about the magnitude of the situation, it all happened so fast and all I was worried over was who they had been with and what they-- "

"Go and find them. Take a group of soldiers, and get them back here as fast as you can."

"That's not all!" Galmar cut in, crossing his arms. Fighting and completely failing to change the look on his face. "The cart the Mer came to us in, belonged to the carriage driver from Solitude, he's with the men that left. From what Alfarinn told us just before the Mer woke up, Agnin seemed more than a little overjoyed to be giving them a sendoff!"

Unable to control it, Galmar's eyes shot back over to Saetad! Personally reveling in the fact that it hadn't been _him_ that'd made the blunder, but also worried over what it would mean for them if those men, just like Agnin, decided they wanted to run their lips.

Ulfric's eyes flew open! "Solitude!" His voice, reverberating through the closed-in space of the cramped hallway, his fists immediately clenching up!

Saetad raised a hand up to the housecarl, stopping him. "Evidently, from the little bit of information Agnin gave us, that's where the Mer came from."

Before he could even finish speaking, Ulfric turned to Galmar. "Go down with several men and get Agnin! I want him in a holding cell, now!" Ulfric smiled. "Make sure it's comfortable and stoke the fires. He'll be down there for quite some time. And don't tell him anything! No matter what comes out of his mouth!"

Nodding to him, Galmar set off down the hallway. Ulfric waited until he was out of earshot, and then turned to the door behind them and pulled it the rest of the way closed. For just a split second, his eyes met Wuunferth's, whom he knew had just heard everything they'd said.

Leaning once more against the stone wall of the hallway, he crossed his arms and focused more on his old friend's chest, rather than crane his neck back in attempt to look him in the eye. He also knew the internal thrashing that Saetad was giving himself right then, was probably more severe than anything he could ever force himself to do. Why make matters worse by staring the man down.

Standing there, about sick to his stomach, trying to interpret the expression on his King's face. For a moment he just stayed silent. Not even looking at him, just staring down into his chest. He knew that something was coming, that's why he'd shut the door. That's why he'd sent Galmar away first.

"What's done is done."

So caught up in his inner struggle, Saetad almost flinched when he finally spoke. Ulfric's eyes met his. He could barely breathe. "I... I'll get them back Ulfric! I can't begin to- "

A slight smile almost forlorn in appearance, came to his face. "I know you will brother. And hopefully by the time you reach them, no one will have spoken about who we have here."

Reaching up his hand, he placed it firmly on the Dovah's shoulder and gave him a light, friendly squeeze. "We weren't prepared to deal with this situation, were we? And yet, here it is. You did what you felt was right, protecting me and our city. And I thank you for it."

The redhead's jaw clenched as he nodded, but he remained quiet. "Get your group ready and go. They've got a day on you now."

Silently, the Dovah nodded his head again and turned to leave. Ulfric called out to his back. The giant Nord paused, but didn't turn around. "Saetad... do whatever you must, but get them back here. All of them. Alive."

Once more crossing his arms, he watched the Dragonborn's retreating form. He'd felt like a father just now, talking to him like that. Just the look on his face. The way he'd struggled in keeping it together, told him that no matter what the outcome was, Saetad would never forgive himself for his error.

Releasing a deep sigh, he stared off into the empty hallway. Why was it so easy for each of them to see the other's struggles so plainly, and know the damned answers! And yet, not be able to see or work out their own. He was none the better. It had taken years for him to get this far, and he still was weighed down by it. Even now, with possible victory and reparation finally within his sights!

All he knew was, they needed to work out the strife between them and get it settled. He needed them by his side, especially now! There was already enough room for error, without them being pulled apart by their resentment of the past. He did not need for them to be distracted.

The three of them would be having a sit down once he returned. A long over due one.

Turning to Wuunferth's door, his sweaty palm grasped the handle. All he wanted now, was to get this over with. Already, he was sick of seeing this Mer, and he'd only just arrived.

**

As soon as the door opened he could still see the remnants of light as Wuunferth's healing magic faded away. Ralof was holding the unconscious Mer forward with one arm, as the other behind him was busy adjusting a pile of furs. The table was already heavily cushioned with them, but now the Mer's head and chest would be elevated enough to aid his breathing.

Within just seconds of him being in the room, watching them... he couldn't tear his eyes away. He was completely mesmerized by the changes in this man. This man that he had known so well, for so long. His Captain.

Of course that was what they'd wanted, wasn't it? He'd been chosen by them to gain the Mer's trust. And that's exactly what he was doing. His job.

If that was all, then why couldn't he look at anything else? Why couldn't he take his gaze away from them? Away from the gingerly way that he touched him, lingering purposely over every little spot. Holding him so gently, as if he would break. His face was so close to him as he lay him back down, that had he moved just a half inch further, their skin would have touched.

Wuunferth watched him. His eyes were all over Ralof and the Mer. His mouth had fallen slack and was hanging open as if in complete disbelief. But in the same moment, his eyes had that distant quality of someone in a deep trance, as if his mind had gone somewhere far, far away.

Sparing a glance at their Captain, he seemed completely oblivious to Ulfric's state. He was busying himself with the Mer's care and either due to the fact that the Jarl had remained silent or he was so engrossed, he hadn't bothered to stop what he was doing. Wuunferth feared the latter.

Before the apprehension in him could build further, he cleared his throat, immediately capturing Ralof's attention and halting him in what he was doing. Which at that point, had been nothing but fawning over the Mer.

Straightening up, Ralof turned toward the Jarl and stood at attention, his cheeks flushing a darker pink than they already were from all the heat in the room. The absolute tell tale sign of his guilt, caused Wuunferth to literally cringe. Thankful and not, that Ulfric's eyes though now clear, were still on Ralof and not on him to see it.

Attempting to get Ulfric's attention off from the speech-stricken Captain, he strode forward. "Ulfric... "

Finally, he turned to him. "The Mer is taking to the healing well. I believe with regimented treatments he will survive."

Ulfric's brows gathered, "What kind of illness is it that ails him so, other than his wounds?" Even as he spoke to him, his eyes constantly drifted back to Ralof. Standing stock still, and waiting to be spoken too.

Wuunferth, attempting to play down the situation, nonchalantly wiped his hands on the cloth rag he held. "He has pneumonia. It is serious, but I believe we've gotten to it in time. We will still have to take great caution until he is completely healed."

Allowing his eyes to settle on their prisoner, they combed over him, taking in how frail he looked at that very moment. He hated magic! The only reason he held firm on having Wuunferth by his side, was to have an ally in the craft. A means to fight fire with fire. The Wizard was aged and wise, and after years around the man, they were friends and he trusted him.

Of course, they didn't hold the same beliefs where the art was concerned and that was fine. As far as he was concerned, anything that was a prominent Elven characteristic was worthless!

Just look at how it was serving the young Elf now. The illness could take his very life. And yet, with all the power he held, all the power that came so naturally to his kind, he couldn't even heal himself! And why? Because if his body was in too much of a weakened state, using his Gods-given abilities could actually suck his life force away and kill him! Doing the very opposite of what it's intended purpose was.

Under _normal_ circumstances and under _normal_ health, this barely adult Altmer held more magical power than his own Wizard. Even with all of his experience and learning.

It was truth! The Greybeards had told him this as a young boy. Out of all the questions and answers he'd had and been given, he would always remember the ones concerning the Mer and the massive differences between their races.

Magic did not come naturally to most Nords, and it took them much longer to learn and gain the power that occurred naturally in every Mer, save the Orsimer of course.

As far as he was concerned, for a Nord to practice magic was going against everything that they were. A show of deliberate rebellion against everything that they stood for. And any Nord that it came natural to, was a freak of nature! And thus, shouldn't be trusted. He swallowed, once again looking at his court Wizard and crossing his arms.

Deciding that he needed to save his internal rant for later. After all, Wuunferth _was_ on his side. "Would I be correct in assuming that you'll be in need of assistance?"

Wuunferth's eyes shifting over to Ralof and then back to him, as he slowly nodded. "Aye."

After all these years, he knew just from watching the emotions play out on Ulfric's face, exactly what was going on in his head. And even though he held firm in his belief that what Ulfric was doing, and what he had done, was for the betterment of their people, he was glad that this Mer held value to him... to his cause. For the very sake of the Mer.

Slowly Ulfric turned and walked to Ralof, not stopping until they were almost nose to nose. Swearing to himself that under the pungent odor of the herbs and oils that had taken over the room, he could smell the sweat pouring off from his Captain.

He studied him, his eyes combing over his face, taking in all the tension that was crawling under his sweat-covered skin. Taking extra care with his voice, so that it came out low and even. So close, that his breath fluttered across Ralof's skin. "Would you be up to that task?"

More than a little surprised, when the blonde's eyes actually grew wider than they already were.  Ralof gave him a slight nod, just a hint of nervous tremor accentuating the Nordic lilt in his voice. "Aye! I will!"

Almost immediately, Ulfric took a step backwards and stood there facing him. "If you haven't already heard through the door, Agnin has been placed under arrest. He's to be held in a cell until I see fit to do something else with him."

He swore he could actually _feel_ the change that came over Ralof upon hearing Agnin's situation. Evidently he hadn't been paying attention earlier. Now he knew why.

"I need you alert at _all_ times! You're going to be placed in charge of this Mer as soon as he's mended. As for now, you'll be under Wuunferth's watch while you're assisting him in his efforts. Get close to him. Find out anything that you can, and report it directly to me!"

Turning to face the Wizard, "I'll be by tonight to see how he's faring. I have some of his things that were hauled out of the cart with him. I'd like your opinion on what we find."

This had actually been Saetad's request, just to keep the Mer guarded properly. And the more they found out, he actually agreed. Now, he was hoping he didn't regret it. "Ralof, the empty quarters down the hall will now be yours. Take a few moments to gather your things and get them moved. Your meals will be brought, same as Wuunferth's."

With that, he was out the door, shutting it before either of them could reply.

**

Before Ralof even had time to process what had just happened, Wuunferth had him by the tunic with both hands! Drawing him half way across the table, his hands fisted so tightly in the material it threatened to rip! Wincing in pain, as his chest hairs were pulled away from his flesh under the Wizard's grasp! 

Nose to nose, the old Nord's voice, menacing through his clenched teeth! "I've a mind to slap you right now!"

His mouth worked and struggled to utter words of defense, but none would come! Wuunferth gave him a shake! Similar to that a father might to his child that he was giving a good verbal thrashing to! "If you're going to be helping _me_ , your head has _got_ to be together!"

One more light shake and he was released from his elder's grasp, actually taking a step back from the table to collect himself. Out of pure instinct, his hands came up to straighten his tunic.

Since yesterday, when the Elf was delivered to them, he'd felt like the very seams of his world were pulling loose! And now just within this last hour, with everything that had just happened, everything he'd felt sure of was laying at his feet, just waiting to be kicked about!

It all seemed so unreal, it just couldn't be happening.

He'd never seen _this man_ angry. Ulfric had never looked at him like that, talked to him like that! Let alone this man here! Still in such a state of shock over it, he couldn't find it within himself to fix the expression that held his face.  Absolute disbelief flooded through him.  

Wuunferth reached back and pulled his hair from the leather tie, gathering it up together into a high ponytail and then retying it. All while glaring at him with that stern look. His voice remained low, but no less fierce than it had been just a moment ago. "I've seen many a man bewitched by their beauty! Sucked in, only to end up betrayed! Do not fall prey to his charms, Ralof! Need I remind you- "

Raising up his hand! He'd heard enough! "You need not!"

Turning away from the accusatory look he was being given, he headed towards the door. "I'll go get my gear and get settled in my quarters. I'll see you before evening meal."

Opening the door, he walked straight into his King. The look that held Ulfric's face telling him more than he wanted to know. Ralof's mind instantly went into red alert! _He had heard everything!_

Swallowing his shock, and hoping that he had enough control left in him to get his face together. "My Lord!"

Even in the low light they stood in, Ulfric could see the color flooding Ralof's face. And even with what he'd overheard, he felt that Wuunferth had the situation under control. The Wizard would be watching out for Ralof, and in turn, watching out for him.

He also knew that Ralof had the best intentions, he'd just never been subjected to a Mer's power before. Not up close like this.

He couldn't fault him for it. Even the strongest of men had their weaknesses, and he was in good company. No one there would allow him to be tainted. He would see to that personally! But right now he had no choice. His Captain was the best watchdog he had. At least he knew the Mer would be safe.

There was no point in flustering him any further. "I thought I would walk you to the barracks..."


	31. My Own People (1)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> That had been the point that Valund, even as badly as he'd earlier admitted feeling for the young Elf, spoke up!
> 
> Staring down into the dirt between his feet, Thaer now knew from listening to his words, he had no intent on helping the Mer! He had no intent on allowing them to do _anything_ that would further sully their standing with Ulfric. Whether he followed the man or not!

**

The tiniest crack of every twig underfoot. The whistle of the wind in the trees. Every sound filled him with dread. They were going to find him! He just knew it!

He knew the roads. That's what he knew! That carriage had been his home, his lively hood for the better part of the last two decades. The roads and cities... the towns. That's what he knew. He hadn't been in the forest on foot since he was a lad hunting with his father. But he knew that's where they'd look for him. On the roads. So, he took to the woods.

The whole night, he'd sat silent and still. Watching them as they sat around the campfire with a group of hunters that had offered them all wine and meat. The heat from the springs and their gear still wet from their journey, they'd all stripped down but him. Hanging their clothes and armor to dry on racks, also supplied by their generous hosts. They had sat in the warm mineral water until they were waterlogged, drinking and eating, contemplating on what to do... what _not_ to do.

They'd gone from quietly talking about it, to yelling about it... to sobbing about it. Never once, did any of the hunters seem curious over what was being said or what had happened, to make the very obviously strong and capable Nords in their camp to act so downtrodden and grief stricken. And after awhile, when they themselves had enough of the water. Enough to eat and drink, they all headed to the small shack that sat at the edge of the trees and settled into their bunks, finally leaving him alone with them.

Pissfaced drunk, naked as new babes, and their bellies full. In the wee hours of the dawn before the sun was close to cracking the horizon, every single one of them had lay dead to Nirn.

He got up, quietly tip toeing over to Valund, cut the coin purse from the redhead's belt and gathered the supplies that he would need. Dried beef, a full water skin and a sword. Even contemplating on taking one of the horses, he decided against it. And not just because the animals didn't know him and he worried over the possibility of it raising a ruckus and rousing one of them, ruining his plans.

But because a man's animal was a personal thing. And for any decent man that was good to his animal, meant that his animal was close to his heart. Almost in the same manner as his kin would be. He'd already lost his own, along with his means of living, and he didn't have it in him to hurt any of these men, especially not in that way. Not after all they'd been witness to and endured. 

No, he would go on foot.

Stopping for just a moment to catch his breath, he uncorked the water skin and took a drink, using the back of his arm to wipe the sweat from his brow. The sound of the river coming back to him, he looked through the brush. As long as he could see the water he knew he was going in the right direction. Water on one side... road on the other, an him in the middle under the cover of the trees.

 His mind kept going to right after they got settled in with the hunters at their camp. Once they found out that they were just passing through and meant them no harm, they seemed almost glad for the friendly company. If they hadn't all been so distraught over what had just taken place, it would've actually served as a nice retreat.

Warmth after their bitter cold journey. Respite after being refused, rejected by their own people. He hadn't cared that he'd spilled tears. Not in front of them or anyone at that point! 

Kjelhe on the other hand, had quietly gone off into the trees and had wept. After a few minutes, Soldin had walked in after him and had stayed for awhile. There was no noise. He and Valund had simply continued to set up their makeshift camp around the fire pit, pretending to be oblivious of them.

Finally after almost an hour, they'd slowly walked from the woods, a fair bit of Kjelhe's warpaint wiped from his face. And the part that was bare, was all blotched red and welted from the tears he'd spilled. Soldin's leather armor bearing smudges of black, bear grease paint, where his little brother had cried on his shoulder.

Just seeing them like that, knowing their hearts and how what their hopes being dashed away from them had done, his own heart had brimmed over with agony once more.

Putting his back up against the only tree close to them, he'd sipped on his wine and listened to them. They were all bitter. But Soldin... now, what kept trying to edge it's way out of _his_ mouth and what he kept stopping just before it could come out, would've been seen as downright treason against Ulfric in those parts.

The redhead could feel it... see it, and yet said nothing. He didn't feel the need to follow a man that spit on his own blood! Even after they'd delivered something of such great value to him! Valund wanted no part in the war at all! At this point, he just wanted to get Thaer back to Solitude, and get as far away from it all as he could!

Soldin _and_ his brother, kept fretting over the Mer that they'd all just delivered. And as far as Kjelhe was concerned, they'd might as well have strapped him into a torture rack themselves.

Thaer had sat there, the light now gone and the sky so clear it seemed every star was visible in the vast curtain of night above them. His instinct that if he remained silent, they would literally forget that he was there seemed to be spot on. 

Kjelhe was so drunk at that point that he no longer cared that he wept openly. Something that was catching it seemed. For even their red haired companion had finally shed a tear before succumbing to the exhaustion of their plight and all the drink that now swam through his veins.

Even he, himself, had to shield his face for a moment again as Kjelhe had cried out, his tears brimming over and spilling from his jaw into his lap. "Do you think they'll kill im'??" 

He'd looked up at his brother pleadingly, "We've gotta do somethin' Soldin... we can't just- "

That had been the point that Valund, even as badly as he'd earlier admitted feeling for the young Elf, spoke up!

Staring down into the dirt between his feet, Thaer now knew from listening to his words, he had no intent on helping the Mer! He had no intent on allowing them to do _anything_ that would further sully their standing with Ulfric. Whether he followed the man or not!

Valund stood up fighting to right his stance, and pointed in the direction of Windhelm! Looking down on the both of them sternly! "That man had the stones to kill the High King! To start a war on his own soil! An he's got the Dovahkiin backin' him! There's naught we can do for that blasted Mer!"

Landing down hard on his bottom, the wine bottle falling from his hand as he leaned in toward Soldin. "I don't like it none too much neither. But yer gonna get us all knifed you keep talkin' like that! We need to get away from here before that Mer's people find out who has him!" 

Leaning back onto one hand, his other fruitlessly feeling about for the lost bottle, his words slurring. "An who done it to him! Who brought him here... "

He'd had to bite his lip not to interject right then! What Valund had said was right! What they needed to do, _was_ get as far away as possible, before the Jarl of Windhelm and his men in charge realized their mistake! Before they realized they needed to recover those that they'd spurned. And not to welcome them back with open arms... but to silence them.

They wouldn't have agreed with him, he knew that now. Hell, he knew it then. That's why he stayed silent. Looking up into the sky, the position of the sun was now at mid-day. He wondered if they were awake yet, and if so, were they tracking him?

He just had to keep telling himself that this was the right thing. He _was_ doing the right thing! There was no way he could've stayed there. Even if Ulfric's men didn't kill them all, he refused to stay in Windhelm! And with what he knew, there was no way that Ulfric would ever let him go. He'd may as well be dead if that happened, and he wasn't ready just yet to meet the Gods. But if he did, it would be with a clear conscience. 

Fastening the cork back into the skin, he pressed on. He could've went toward Ivarstead, but even that wasn't safe. He didn't dare stay at the Inn. Everyone there knew him and would be questioning why he wasn't in his carriage. That may have also been one of the first places they'd come looking. And if the Dragonborn was leading them, Stormcloak or not, they wouldn't question him. After all, he was their hero.

No, he knew where he was going.

**

On horseback, they split up into groups of three and separated. Two groups would take up positions flanking the springs, while his group would go down the center. All the men knew no harm was to come to them once found. The Jarl simply wanted a word on the situation at hand and that was that. They were to be treated with hospitality, unless they refused and even then they were necessary and couldn't be killed.

He could only hope for willing subjects. Things were becoming complicated enough without having to force someone to do something they didn't want to do.

At this point he just wanted them found, then he could try to reason with them. Apologize to them for his short-sighted behavior. Explain to them his reasons for doing what he did. All he knew was, he had to find them quickly. Problem was, he had no idea what their plans were or where they intended to go, save for the fact that they'd gone toward the springs. So... that's where they would start.

If he'd only had the wings that should've accompanied this gift of his, he'd be able to see for miles. He would know in seconds, just where they were and what they were doing. But no, it was not to be that way. As far as his gift was concerned, he hadn't even scratched the surface of what had been bestowed upon him and why. Of course, he had his own humanly notions... feelings. But to truly understand the reason behind why the Gods had given it to him, no. He could only imagine.

Taking as much time as he could since he'd realized who he really was, to study as many of the old Dovahkiin that their people had actually recorded. He knew that he really didn't want to follow in any of their footsteps. He wasn't power hungry, a person that longed only for themselves, he never had been and never could be. He didn't long for the deaths of others. What he wanted, was an end to all the discord. But from all his years as a warrior, he also knew that you couldn't have peace without sacrifice.

And sacrifice meant that death was inevitable. Just how much death however, was something that he _could_ try to control. It was all in how things were done. And hopefully with this young Mer, they could do just that! Control how many died and how many didn't.

Ever since his first trip to see the Greybeards, his mind had constantly gone back to them... what they had taught him and told him. Most of what he'd learned about his gift and those that came before him, had come from them. But even they themselves didn't have all the answers he sought. He was hungry for knowledge! And even though that delighted them, it had also worried them. They worried over his lack of patience, fearing that he would be led down the wrong path.

He knew one thing, he couldn't sit cooped up in a mountain temple, being some sort of monk when the world needed him. There was also no way that he could abide by what Delphine stood for. Didn't matter that they both hated the Thalmor or not. Mindless slaughter did no one any good.

Just thinking about the brief time he'd spent with her brought rage up in him. She acted without any forethought or knowledge. Like a blind man stumbling around in the darkness, just waiting to trip over something.

Woman or no! When she'd told him she intended on killing any Dragon that she came across, he'd grabbed her up by edges of her leather chest plate and shook her! Yelling in her face that he would see the last of the Blades laying dead before he would allow her to interfere in something so important as what was taking place! It was after that he'd gone up to see the old men again. So shaken up over it, he'd felt the need to sink down onto his knees and cry out to the Gods for reason! For answers!

Master Arngeir had told him _all about_ them! He'd stayed up there again for almost a week, reading text after text on the Dragons. Their power over his ancestors and what it had led them to do to their own people. The horrific atrocities that had been committed. He also read and studied up on the Blades and their history. He had no intention of allowing them to rise to power again. Especially with her being the brains behind their operation.

As a boy, he'd been fascinated by all the old ruins and the history that surrounded his people... of Skyrim as a whole. And that meant _all_ that dwell within her. Now, that not only meant all manner of beings, but the Dragons as well.

He'd already seen that he could reason with some of them, that not _all_ of them desired Alduin's rule. And those would be his allies, they would have safe haven here. The only thing she cared about was the blooding of her blade.

If anyone _hadn't_ learned by their history, it was her! He had no intention of duplicating the mistakes of the past. He also wouldn't allow the extermination of _any_ species, simply because of past wrongs! He did _not_ believe that his people were the _only ones_ that had the right to live... the right to freedom.

Abruptly shaking his head in the attempt to dispel the cumbersome thoughts, the soldier on the horse next to him spoke up. "Alright Dovahkiin?"

"Aye... we're gonna-"

The words stuck in his throat, as his eyes took in the sight that lay before them. Holding up his arms to halt the men beside him, speaking as low as possible so as to not rouse their sleeping quarry. "Split up and gather the other groups and meet me back here. Quickly!"

The fact that he was alone with them didn't bother him. Not at all. Even if he wasn't who he was, he didn't think they'd be in any sort of condition to fight him and win. The longer he took them in, the more he wanted to burst out in laughter. Really, the only thing that kept it from completely bubbling up from inside him, was the severity of the situation that he was currently in. Though he kept it contained, nothing was taking away the smile that curved his lips.

The three of them were laying there, completely naked. Half in and half out of the water. Their pale Nord skin, red from being exposed to the sun for so long. Empty, discarded wine bottles surrounded the lot of them. Realization crept in as his eyes combed over their campsite, and the smile slowly left his lips.

Three. Three of them.

Fighting the panic that sprang up from deep inside of him, his eyes darted around the camp in search of him! Remaining quiet, he rode over to the small hunter's shack. Two men and one woman... their belongings still there, horses grazing on the grass to the side of the shack... bows gone. They were probably off hunting somewhere nearby.

No carriage driver! Nowhere. He was gone.

Leading his horse back over to the unconscious men, placing the tips of two fingers to the edges of his teeth and tongue, he gave out a shrill whistle and fought for patience as they slowly began to stir.

**

The most Gods awful noise, piercing right through his very skull sounded off! Struggling to roll over so he could escape it, the better half of his arse felt as if it had fallen asleep. Small stones and pebbles fell loose from him as his body slowly shifted to the other side. Daring to crack his eyelids, instinctively his arm raised trying to shield them from the blinding sun.

Kjelhe's vision swam in and out as he realized someone was standing over them. Someone real big. It seemed his entire body just cried out for anything wet. The mineral water that surrounded them, almost seemed to be taunting him.

_Gods... water..._

He needed a drink so bad. His mouth felt like it was lined with cotton, his guts were rolling. He squinted, trying to focus and realized that it wasn't just someone standing over them. Whoever it was, they were on a horse and there were others joining him.

Not tearing his sight from the men looming over them, his shaking hand reached over to his brother giving him a hard shove.

**

Silently, they walked side by side down to the barracks. It wasn't really an uncomfortable silence, just silence. He hadn't wanted to walk him down to intimidate him, just to try and rebuild some of the natural camaraderie that had always seemed to come so naturally between them. He didn't want that to change. He didn't want to lose it. That was the last thing he needed.

Now, just being away from the Mer and the whole atmosphere that seemed to surround the room he was being housed in, the horrible tension that had threatened to choke the life out of him had almost completely gone away.

And at that moment, he couldn't think of a single thing to say. Even if it was for just a few more seconds, he wanted to surround himself in this peace... just breathe in deep of it. Glancing over to Ralof, he could tell the blonde was deep in thought, completely lost in it if the truth be known.

Truth be known, they were all still reeling from everything that had happened over the last day. Reaching his hand out to grasp the handle, as soon as the door was cracked Agnin's screams rang out! Instantly their eyes met and they both busted into laughter, hands going up to cover their mouths. It all just seemed so hysterically funny. And the more he yelled and screamed, the harder they laughed.

The situation in it's entirety. All the stress, and the fact that all of them at some point had wanted to see his ass behind bars or dead. And now even with what he'd delivered to him, here he sat. In _his_ jail, screaming and wailing about his rights, and the horrible injustice that was being served to him.

All of it now seemed so utterly hilarious, that as soon as they stepped into the room, they had to take a moment and get themselves under control. But it was all to no avail... if he saw him now, he'd laugh right in his face.

Guards and soldiers wandered about aimlessly, irritated and disheveled from being roused by all the noise. Looking at their King and their Captain, using the stone wall behind them for support, both of them now bent over holding their guts. Loud guffaws echoing throughout the barracks.

Ulfric's hands went up to wipe the tears that flowed freely from his eyes, his stomach hurt, his face hurt... he hadn't laughed like this since he could even remember. Taking a deep breath, he glanced up to see Galmar standing there, arms crossed and the most irritated scowl on his face he thought he'd ever seen. Just the sight of him looking like that, with Agnin screaming in the background got it started all over again.

His head dropped towards the floor, _Gods! he was about to choke!_ he could barely catch his breath. One of his hands reached over and held Ralof's shoulder, the other now braced onto his leg for support. He didn't dare look back at Galmar or he'd end up on his knees! He just knew his Housecarl's expression had gone from bad to horrible. Right now he almost felt the need to turn around and walk right back out the door they'd just come in, now if he only had the strength to turn around and grab the handle.

**

Galmar just stood there and took them in, waiting. He knew better than to speak. Over their many years of friendship, of course all of the occasions he now recalled had been prior to Ulfric's capture, they had drank and joked and laughed together. And how many of those times his own terse manner had been the very thing that would set it off. And how often he'd kept it up simply to see Ulfric near disabled from laughter until he could take it no more himself and would finally break down.

Yes, it had been a very long time since he'd seen him laugh... even smile. And although he would never admit it, he almost felt a sharp stab of jealousy over the two of them sharing this moment together. But after all he _was_ there... at least he got to take it in and in a way that was sharing it. A smile finally came to his own lips just hearing them, just seeing it. Ulfric needed this. And hopefully, this would provide a bit of much needed release for him and he'd be able to think clearer.

Now only if he could get the man to take a wench, that would definitely give him the release he needed. That was something he'd tried to do over and over. To get him a woman. Not for anything long term mind you, but just for bedding. He simply wasn't interested. And every time Galmar would even mention it, he'd get angry. Telling him that any time he was with a woman she expected more than he could give, and he had nothing to give until this was over! Nothing of himself, his heart or his mind.

There was no way that he could marry just out of duty. He didn't have the patience to live with or around someone that he didn't really care about. It would drive him mad! And he wouldn't tarnish the memory of his father and his family by bringing children into a relationship that was built on regrets, nor into a land where they had to fear for worshiping the Gods of their choosing!

He understood how he felt and why, but he also had a tendency to overthink things. For Talos' sake, pleasure was pleasure! And by the time Ulfric was finished with his speech, he'd be rolling his eyes and telling him that a whore's mouth and hands were not a blasted relationship! All he had to do was let the woman swallow his seed, throw her some coin and then show her the door!

After finding out that Ulfric hadn't actually been with anyone since his release, and how he reacted anytime it was brought up, made him think it also had to do with how he looked under his clothes. All of his scars. No man wanted to get a woman into the bedroom only to have her back away or flee in revulsion... or look upon him with pity.

He'd spent many a night in his _own_ quarters thinking over what was in his King's heart, in his mind. After everything that he had lived through, how would he face it if the woman he wanted rejected him, or bed him simply out of duty. The whole time wishing for it to be over, facing each union with dread in her heart. Perhaps taking a lover in secret out of discontent. These were all things that had to be going through Ulfric's mind.

Finally one night after _way_ too many ales and tiring of Ulfric's dark mood, he had suggested that perhaps he should take a male. Of course this was not the first time that the thought had entertained him. But it was certainly the first time he'd ever voiced it. Of course that particular night all the alcohol in his blood was what made it come out of his mouth. And as soon as it did, they both got real quiet. For a moment Ulfric just stared at him, like he either wasn't sure that he'd heard right, or was just contemplating it.

His real fear was that he'd offended him. That Ulfric would take it as a slap in the face. After many drunk nights together, he knew what Ulfric had endured while he was in the Thalmor's custody. But he hadn't given any mention to taking a Mer... he knew better than that! And taking a man, with consent of course, was an entirely different thing than receiving one. Ulfric would never be on _that_ end of things again. _That_ he knew!

A sardonic sort of smile came to his face, he let out a bit of a chuckle and raised his bottle, downing it. His eyes leveling onto Galmar's. 'What makes you think I could stomach a man touching me! Let alone get hard for one!?'

He'd just shook his head, letting out a deep, forceful sigh. 'Just a suggestion... that's all.'

But that wasn't all! He hadn't really expected that he would be open to it, but he could hope, couldn't he? After all his years, his experience in battle and in the field, he'd had his own fair share of experiences. Of course, it wasn't something that _any_ Nord advertised out in the open! It was kept private! But it did happen.

After enough time without a woman, or the only women around are taken and you're in great enough need, you'll take what you can get! If you're up to your neck in battle, and you don't know when you might be drawin' your last breath, it can be nice to share just a few minutes of closeness with someone. Any kind of closeness. Just to have the feel of warm flesh next to you... beneath you.

Sometimes you just needed to let the animal in you free and a woman just wouldn't be able to take it! He didn't have no qualms about holdin' a man down, both of them bare and muscled... covered in sweat and dirt. A wrestling match that ended in them both getting what they wanted! Being able to grab hold of a good piece of shoulder with his teeth, while his hands were wrapped tightly around wrists and he drove in again and again!

As far as he was concerned, listening to a man moan because of him... well, was there any better sound? It was different with a wench. But getting a man to cry out, or to bite the furs beneath him to keep from being heard... the pride that it filled you with was about as nice as besting your enemy, winning a battle!

But he couldn't tell Ulfric that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know the carriages in the game don't stop at Ivarstead. But I'm saying that with him being a driver, that he would be known throughout the majority of towns. Especially being that many of the small ones are on the way to the ones they do stop at. In reality, the drivers would probably be stopping to rest and pick up supplies and whatnot while on the way to other places.


	32. My Own People (2)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Their eyes met... what other choice did they have? And that was exactly why Ulfric had sent the Dragonborn, because he would bring them back. It would either be by force, hogtied and slung over their horses, or they could ride in with some dignity still in tact and face what was coming. But they _would_ be going, there was no doubt about that.
> 
> Soldin nodded, watching as Valund looked Saetad right in the eye, "If anyone tries to hurt Kjelhe... I- "

**

There was no shame in vomiting. None at all. Every man that now surrounded them, had emptied their guts at least a time or two in the span of their lives from overindulgence. He was sure of it. 

But doing it buck-ass naked on your hands and knees, in front of the most powerful and Gods-gifted Nord alive, was another thing entirely. Not to mention the fact, that they had a fucking audience to witness the auspicious occasion. 

He and Valund, both jerked awake by his brother's panicked voice. His hands pushing and shoving at him until he'd cracked his eyes against the Gods-forsaken sun, only to stare up at the massive Nord and his company that loomed over them on horseback. 

It was the awful revelation of _who_ surrounded them and what that meant, that had gotten them up onto their hands and knees. And the complete combination of it all, that had made them ill. Shock, stress, heat... way too much wine... and then the question that had rang out from his mouth. "The carriage driver... where is he?"

That was the final straw. 

While they wiped their mouths and scrambled for their clothes, the Dovahkiin shouted orders to his men. "Get their weapons. Gather those horses. One of them will have to pair up with one of you!"

Valund and his brother kept looking at him like they wanted answers. He had none. 

"Solitude... he's probably tryin to get back to Solitude." Soldin's mind completely spun from what was happening, and even as he spoke the words, he couldn't believe Thaer would've had the guts to leave on his own. Not with how severely he'd been affected by everything that'd happened... everything that he'd witnessed. 

Soldin stood there with his mouth agape, eyes staring down into ground and seeing through it. Everything that they'd talked about the night before, it was all really happening. And now it was too late for them to do a blasted thing about it! 

Saetad tossed his water skin down to them, watching as they took turns with it. Noting all the telltale signs that each man gave off. Shaking and trembling hands, loss of dexterity, and even with the pink on their exposed skin, each one bore the same pallid look. Obvious that they were all hung over, dehydrated and sick to their stomachs. But the severity of the shaking that he was seeing, was from fear and shock.

It also seemed to him that they weren't planning on anyone taking any further interest in them, or they wouldn't have hung around and gotten drunk to the extent that they had. His mind kept going over it, trying to figure it out. He needed more answers, and he needed them quick. The longer they took, the farther away the damned driver was getting. 

"I take it that none of you saw him leave then?"

They all exchanged glances, righting their tunics and leggings so they could pull their leathers, furs and boots over them... not wanting to look up at him. Soldin briefly closed his eyes, this was the part he hated about being the one leading them. Handing the empty skin back up to the Dovah, he exhaled sharply. "No, none of us saw. He must've waited till we passed out."

Kjelhe spat onto the ground, trying to rid himself of the fluid that was constantly pooling up in his mouth. Even as parched as he was, it wouldn't go away. A single tear made it's way down his face. Holding an arm over his stomach, trying to fend off the cramping in his guts, the dread he felt was killing him, right along with the Godsdamned injustice that was being done! 

He had to speak! Things couldn't get any worse, right? "Why're you after him? You gonna kill him? That's why you're takin us away... right? To keep us- "

Soldin stared at him in shock! The never ending flow of words finally spurring him into action, he grabbed at Kjelhe's shoulder to quiet him! Valund's face screwed up into a look that was something between, Oh shit! and What the Fuck?

Kjelhe spit again, not paying them any mind, pushing his brother's hand away! If they were going to die, he wanted some straight answers! But even as his words came out, more and more tears fell. A pure combination of fury and terror, and he could take no more... no more!

His lips quivered, saliva hanging from them in a thin string, his nose running into his mouth as he looked up to Saetad with eyes that showed _all_ the emotion that he was feeling, and had felt and hidden over their time with Agnin! "You're... you're gonna believe Agnin?!" 

Now he didn't even try to wipe at his face, it was no use. "You're gonna just take his word?!" 

The boy pointed to himself, and gestured to his comrades, his voice wavering. _"We were the ones found that Elf!"_

Straightening up on his horse, he looked down at the young Nord. He couldn't pull his eyes from the display that was taking place, nor could his ears hear anything else but the boy's words. The redhead's mouth dropped open, his eyes bugging out in disbelief! The older one, that looked enough like the young lad that was bawling, to either be his brother or his father... Saetad couldn't tell which. He kept trying to shut him up to no avail.

Soldin grabbed Kjelhe's arm! Trying to jerk him around to face him, only for his little brother to dig his feet into the ground and swat at him again. His eyes never left the Dovah, and his mouth just kept on going.

"Let him speak."

Immediately, Soldin backed away from his brother. Taking him in, listening to his sobbed out words so filled with anguish, making the guilt that he already felt increase tenfold. The fact that they were in this pitiful position was all his fault. Everyday of the life they'd lived since their Ma had passed, had weighed on him something fierce. 

And now here they were, in this position facing possible death or who knew what else? Getting caught up in the very center of all the mess that was now their homeland. It made him wonder what their Pa would think if he could see every mistake his eldest had made, and where he'd led his baby boy. It made him wonder what he would do. If he wouldn't slap him so hard his teeth would rattle right out of his head, for choosing to get his brother involved in a criminal's way of life. 

He thought about it every day. How their father had sacrificed everything to fight for their Empire... for their people. And how _he,_ instead of keeping with how he'd been raised and making an honest way of it, had turned to the easiest route, dragging Kjelhe right along with him.

They'd been left with nothing. Their family had never had much even when their Pa was alive. But he'd been a strong Nord, and a hard worker. An honest man. Sometimes that was just the lot you were given in life. Some had better then others and no matter how hard you tried, you were just scraping by. Leaving the same way that you came in... with nothing. 

Things didn't get real bad though until he went off to war. He got a bit of gold when he signed up and tried to send home the meager amount that he received here and there. Sometimes they got it and sometimes they didn't. 

Wasn't his fault. Sending coin by way of courier from that great a distance was a gamble at best. There were many in their homeland that were hurting. Lot's of Skyrim's young had been shipped off to their relatives and friends of their families, as both of their parents went to fight. It wasn't just soldiers that were lost in the war. There were lives lost at home, too.

It was then that at the young age he'd been himself, he'd had to work tryin to support them all. Tryin to be a daddy, when he was still just a lad himself. Their Ma did what she could, growing herbs to make potions for selling. They barely had enough crops to feed themselves, let alone sell. He'd hunt and fish, trying to put food on the table, and any other jobs he could take and still be close to home so they would be protected.

By the time they'd gotten word of their Pa's death, their Ma had already fallen ill. And then the potions they'd been selling started going for her. There was no amount of potion that was going to help what she had. And not being in the position to afford a healer, it became a waiting game. Trying to keep her comfortable until the end came. 

They'd gotten a sum of gold from the Empire to try and compensate for his death, as did all those that were left behind. It hadn't lasted long. Burying her behind the broken down shack that had been their home, next to a makeshift grave they'd made for their Pa. They'd never see him again, as most of the dead would never be buried in their own soil. The Empire couldn't go to the expense to ship all the corpses back home, not when they'd be risking the spread of disease on the ships, and dealing with superstitious sailors. Very few were sent. 

Soldin wanted to remember him the way he had once been. Not broken and bloody, rotting from the long journey back on a ship. It was best, and Kjelhe didn't even remember him anyway, just the stories that he and their Ma had told him. They packed up what they could and set off. There was nothing for them there, and truth be told, neither of them could've stayed... not with all the memories and heartache.

Kjelhe looked to him, as he'd been more like his father than a brother. And so many times he'd felt he should've tried to get some kind of work on a farm or in a town. But that kind of work wasn't enough to build a home on, or keep them from living in the streets... or worse yet, the sewers. Like that of Riften. Working on a farm, they'd be lucky to get a hay loft to sleep in after breaking their backs all day long. That wasn't the kind of life he'd wanted for him either. The only other option, was joining the Legion. And there was no way that he would do that after what they'd gone through. He wasn't leaving his brother's side. 

Soldin's eyes met Valund's as he waited for his brother to finish pouring his heart out, praying silently to the Gods that this wasn't sealing all their doom. Wrong or right, the decisions had been made. These were the regrets of maturity, and he'd carry them to his deathbed. The only thing he could do now, was hope for a chance to change the path they'd been on. If they lived long enough.

Saetad listened, his anger and suspicion growing by the second. Finally the truth was coming out. Every word just cementing the fact that Ulfric was right in making sure that Agnin be kept under lock and key. 

After saying all that he evidently had the energy to say, sapped of his strength and will for the time being, the boy dropped to his knees, covering up his face with his hands and wept. The one that was either his older brother or father, kneeling down beside of him, trying to comfort and quiet him. 

Saetad took in a deep breath, now he just had to get his hands on that driver before he had the chance to get to a settlement and run his lips. It didn't take a genius to know that pretty much everyone in _any_ small town, and _any_ soldier, would know who he was. They were extremely well known throughout all the holds, and anyone that recognized him would wonder where in oblivion his carriage was, and why was he without it!

He wanted to hear more, he did. But first things first.

"Get on your horses. No one's going to die, that's not why I'm here." Turning his horse around, "We'll talk it over on the way back, but we have to move now."

Kjelhe lowered his arm from his face, looking up with a shocked, yet hopeful look. Getting his face mopped up, Soldin pulled him onto the back of his mount. There was no way his brother was riding with anyone else, not only because he was an emotional wreck, but the circumstances were not the best by a long shot. And even though they hadn't been shown an ounce of hostility, and the Dovah had just given them a shred of comfort with his last words, he wouldn't be separated from him until he knew for sure that they were all safe. 

At the Dovah's request, the soldiers spread out enough so they could move up along side of him. Saetad glanced at Soldin. Kjelhe's face was practically buried into his back, his whole body jerking against him as the hitching in the boy's chest continued. He couldn't help but ask, "Is he yours?"

Soldin's eyes met his for a moment, the feeling of Kjelhe's arms tightening around him, making his heart hurt even worse. "No... he's my little brother. I did all of his raising though... so yeah, I kinda feel like he's mine, I guess."

A smile spread across the Dovah's face as he looked forward, "How old?"

"Seventeen. I'm a fair piece older than him you could say."

"He's got some guts. He's honest. So you must've done something right." 

Noting Soldin's expression, he could tell that he wasn't in agreement with his last words. No matter. Any boy that could speak his piece, even if he _was_ wet from tears while doing it and on his knees, to _him_ had guts. It also showed he was honest, that what he said was truth! 

Anyone that didn't sugar coat their words and suck up to try and save their own ass, when they knew there might be a blade with their name on it, to _him,_ was worthy. Hearing what he'd heard and seeing a little of what these men were like, was also making him feel like more a heel for turning them away.

"What's your name?" Looking around him to the three of them, "All of your names."

Valund allowed Soldin to speak first, then gave his own. 

Saetad looked directly at Soldin, Kjelhe's blue eyes peering at him from behind his brother, as if using him for cover. "Soldin, it was my error, and my error alone, that got you all turned away when you were. I don't have time to go over everything right now, but from your brother's words back there, I can see that we're in agreement where Agnin is concerned. And it was the fact that you were with _him,_ that you were turned away. We kind of _had_ to take him in, due to the circumstances."

Valund finally spoke, "What do you mean, 'In agreement', about Agnin?"

Finally, they had reached the stone pathway that led back to the city. Pulling lightly on his reigns, Saetad came to a stop and turned his mount so he could face them. The way he saw it, he only had two options. One of them, he knew, was a huge time waster and he didn't want to risk disappointing Ulfric any further than he already had, and that would definitely do it. 

Either path he chose, he knew he'd be catching shit from Galmar, but when wasn't he? He couldn't make his decisions based on the old Nord. They had to work things out on their own time, and even then he knew they wouldn't be seeing eye to eye.

Right now, the most important thing was finding that driver. And if he took the time to take these men all the way back to the city and get them settled, he'd be losing the light and losing time! And _that_ was something that he just couldn't do!

"Agnin is under lock and key, in the palace dungeon as we speak. And _that_ is by Ulfric's word!"

All three of them exchanged glances, struggling not to show the shock they felt and completely failing. That was the last thing they thought they'd be hearing after the sendoff he'd given them the day before.

Valund actually turned his face, unable to hide his smile, his hand going up to his mouth. Kjelhe just tucked his face into his brother's back. This was the best news he'd heard in so long, he couldn't remember. He absolutely hated Agnin! And he knew he wasn't the only one. In just the short time they'd been in his company, he'd seen enough torture and death to last him a life time.

Soldin wanted to laugh, he wanted to breathe a sigh of relief, but he also wanted to know. "Is that what you've got planned for us? A place in the palace dungeon?" 

Signalling his men, he raised his hand, "Not if you help me... help us. You help us, and you'll have a place inside that city. You'll be safe when all oblivion breaks loose. And believe me, it's gonna break loose as soon as Ulfric contacts the Dominion and tells them who we have."

"Why is Agnin under lock and key?" Kjelhe finally looked at him head on for the first time since he'd spilled his guts.

Saetad blew out a deep breath, looking the young Nord in the eye. "Agnin's under lock and key because he's a waste of good air! None of us trust him and we don't want him around Ulfric, nor anyone else, especially that Mer! There's a lot of history there, and right now I don't have the time to go over it. But I promise I will, once we have that driver back in Windhelm!" 

Shaking his head, he looked at each one of them in turn, feeling more and more anxious with each minute that passed. "Look, we don't want this getting out to anyone until we're prepared for it. And if Thaer runs his mouth before it's time, it could hurt our chances of this going the way we want. Once it's all said and done, you'll all be free to go where you please, but for now I think you're safer in Windhelm."

Their eyes met. What other choice did they have? And that was exactly why Ulfric had sent the Dragonborn, because he would bring them back. It would either be by force, hogtied and slung over their horses, or they could ride in with some dignity still intact and face what was coming. But they _would_ be going, there was no doubt about that. 

Soldin nodded, watching as Valund looked Saetad right in the eye, "If anyone tries to hurt Kjelhe... I- "

Soldin's mouth dropped open, Kjelhe immediately tucking his burning face into his brother's back. Saetad tossed a sword to Valund. A little stunned, he raised his hand up catching it mid-flight, "Nobody's gonna hurt that boy, nor any of you! You have my word on that! You delivered that Elf to us for a reason, right? Then help me... _help us,_ to see that through!"

Tossing Soldin a sword as well, he looked to his men. "Give the boy one of your mounts. I need your rations! Food and water! One of you're coming with us, the rest... go back and tell em the men'r with me and we're going to look for the carriage driver!" 

Saetad looked between them, "When we get back, you can have remedy. A hot meal and a hot bath, clean clothes and a real bed to sleep in. How's that sound?"

Kjelhe smiled at him, letting loose of his brother, he got down and walked over to the mount given up for him by one of the Stormcloak soldiers. "Could I get my bow back? I'm a good bowman. I'll pull my own weight."

The soldier handing him his gear, Saetad grinned at him. "I bet you will."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> These guys will play an integral part of the story from here on out, and you will get to know them better as it progresses. Not really main characters, but involved.
> 
> I also know that the timing of the end of the war, and what I'm describing with the brother's family is a bit off as far as lore is concerned. There is about a 26 year time span between when the War ended and when Torygg is killed. I'm basically saying that Kjelhe was born right before their father joined, which was close to the war's end. Soldin was about 15 at the time and had to take over raising his brother, and so to Kjelhe, he's more of a father. 
> 
> So I've shaved some time off and altered it just a bit. It was kind of important to me to have these two brothers and their situation fit into my plans, so please forgive the divergence. I try to make things as lorefully accurate as possible, but after all, this is fiction based on fiction. I never understood how Ulfric could wait as long as he did anyway to make a move. 26 years is a long fucking time! I honestly think after that time span that there would be a much heavier Thalmor presence in Skyrim. But again... fiction. 
> 
> Again, as always, thank you for your patience and for reading.


	33. Promise

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 'He took that dog apart Ulfric! Like a youngin would take apart a toy. The things he's doing keep getting worse and worse... where do you think this'll end up heading?'
> 
> He'd simply swallowed, licking his lips. He knew where this was going. He didn't dare bring up his mother. He couldn't pull that one out and use it, not with the state his father had been in. But that didn't mean he didn't want to. He'd promised her!

**

As soon as the door had opened and Agnin saw him, he quieted. His face was wet from sweat and tears. Snot had been smeared across his cheek, plastering hairs from his dark, honey colored beard to his skin. His entire face and throat was all blotched red from the force of the tantrum that he'd thrown. 

Ralof stood beside Ulfric, Galmar's large frame filling the doorway behind them. No matter, even if he couldn't see the old Nord's face, he could feel the loathing that poured off from him just the same. There was no sense in staring into his hate filled eyes to compound it all.

Ulfric just stood there... staring at him. Agnin backed away from the bars, tears streaming down his face. Not waiting for his Jarl... his once, childhood friend to speak. He couldn't stand it anymore! "What'd I do to deserve this Ulfric? What'd I do?"

Ulfric closed his eyes against him. If he just heard the sound of his shaking voice, sounding like that. Filled with pain and question, pleading. Just the way it had sounded when they were but just boys. His heart clenched up, and for a moment, he could feel all the emotion he'd once felt way back then. When his father had sat him down, speaking to him quite frankly about his friend one night, right before he was to depart for the Monastery. 

He'd revered his father. A giant of a man, his large weathered hand had gently taken his shoulder as they sat across from one another, the flickering light dancing about the room, cast from the fire a few feet away. "I feel the need to speak with you Ulfric, before you leave." 

Pulling his hand away, his father had looked down, his eyes studying the grooves in the floor of his chambers, his hands now clasped together. "You have only a few days left with me, and I want you to abide my wishes." 

His blue eyes rose up from the floor and met his own now. Almost a mirror image of one another, he knew what he would look like in his aged years. His father swallowed, his brows riddled with grey hairs knitting up in concern. "I don't want you around him anymore... "

His chest had clenched up in pain! He knew that his father was reading his expression! He knew the old Nord could tell he was hurting, just by looking at him. He struggled to voice his plea! His defense, along with that of his friend's! "But fa- "

Hoag raised up his hand, the immediate signal for Ulfric to be silent. "You may not understand what I tell you now, but someday son, you will. There is something wrong with that boy."

This had been the first time that something like that had been said by his father. He'd heard things muttered by the guard here and there, but not to this extent, and that was usually after Agnin had been caught doing something he shouldn't be. The Guard would talk to his mother, who was always on the verge of being tossed out of her home for lack of tax coin, telling her to get her boy under control. 

Ulfric would insist that he stay at the palace, more and more they'd have sleep overs, the three of them were together more often than not. He felt bad for him, never having enough to eat, their small house was always too cold and his clothes were always in desperate need of repair. His mother was always gone, either making rounds trying to collect washing or mending to do for others, or that other thing that Agnin said she was doing for coin that he didn't want to think about. 

There had been a lot of men seen coming and going... even some of the guard. One night he'd heard his mother talking to some of the servants about him, and he'd crept up to the edge of the door, breathing as silent as possible so to not be caught. Listening to her tell them that it was sad that Agnin's mother couldn't find a decent man that would help her raise him, actually stick around and be a father to him. Perhaps then he would calm down and start acting right.

One of the servants had whispered back to her, 'No decent man will want her My Lady. She's had far too many in her bed. The whole city knows... '

It'd been just a year prior to the very sit down that his father was having with him that night before his journey, that Agnin had stayed with them for over a fortnight. His mother had still been alive, as they'd not known about her illness yet. She'd always tried to take care of Agnin, trying to mother him, constantly telling him and Saetad to watch after Agnin. That he needed someone on his side, allies. 

After that particular night, she'd been terrified for him. 

It was one of those things that he knew he'd never forget. One of those things that he'd pushed to the very most hidden recesses of his mind, along with the worst parts of his capture. Shoving it fiercely away, before it could come too close.

That particular night, Agnin had run into the Inn, screaming and crying, his clothing ripped... and he'd been bleeding. His lips cut, his face swollen, bruises all over the skin that was showing. His eyes had been completely wild, and he was babbling incoherently. No one could make out his words, just little bits here and there. Of course, knowing who he was, the Inn Keeper had summoned one of the guard, and he'd been taken right up to the palace. 

The guard, well known to him, had actually picked him up and carried him into the palace like a baby. Ulfric's mother, upon seeing his condition, immediately had shooed him and Saetad away, saying that she would take care of him and that they didn't need to see this! She yelled for the guard to go down to the Phial right away! They would be in need of a healer!

Knowing that he would probably be sent home anyway, due to whatever had happened, Saetad grabbed his things and went home. Telling him quietly to let him know what was going on as soon as he found anything out.

He'd known it was best. When there was a lot of stress in the palace, his father and mother preferred that he not have friends there. And even though it had irritated him at times, he tried to understand it. His parents were important, and during times of strife they didn't want anyone in the palace that was unnecessary to dealing with it. Also, his mother had told him, that it was to insure the safety of their citizens. 

But right then, not understanding what was taking place, and being upset over how Agnin was acting and how he'd looked, he really didn't want to be alone. 

Waiting outside the spare room they'd gone into. Watching as servants came in and out, holding baskets of bloody rags, bringing in kettles filled with hot water and fresh linens. He'd heard his mother speaking low and comforting words to Agnin, calming him. 

Finally the healer they'd called from the Phial, an Elf, came into the hallway and entered the room, carrying a large satchel. It wasn't too long after hearing the clanking of bottles, that Agnin had grown quiet. He remembered waiting for what seemed like an eternity, for any movement or sound or word that he could discern. They were all whispering in there... even with Agnin quiet. He had to be asleep. 

All of a sudden, the door had opened and one of the servants walked out. When she came back, his father was with her.

When his father left the room, he'd had one of the most severe looks about him that he could ever remember seeing! Turning to him and telling him that he needed to stay there and help to tend after his friend! His father turned and left the hallway, heading down to the main hall and calling guard with him along the way.

When his mother did finally leave the room, her face was welted and red from tears. She'd wrapped her arms around him, holding him closely. Her soft voice broken, telling him that she loved him so. And telling him that she didn't ever want him to go near Agnin's home... or his mother again. To the point of kneeling down, and looking up at him! Holding onto both of his hands, she'd made him promise! 

'Promise me Ulfric, that you will watch over him. He will need someone like you on his side! You watch over him, but promise me that you won't ever go near that house! And don't go near her!'

He'd asked her over and over, his own tears spilling, what had happened to him? All she would say was that a man had hurt him badly, and that he was being brought in by the guard and so was his mother, for questioning.

Staying in one of their spare rooms for almost three weeks, at first Agnin seemed overly distant, but after a few days he started to open back up and act like his normal self. After making several attempts to get answers out of him, and coming up empty each time, he quit trying and turned to one of the guardsman. One that had always turned a blind eye when Agnin had gotten into trouble. He was even prone to throwing the boy a little coin here and there, or helping him out with clothes. 

He had a family of his own and hated seeing how some of their young were left going without, so he tried to help with whatever he could. His wife was one of the palace cooks and between both their pay, they could spare some gold to help out. More often than not, any homeless were staying if not in the palace barracks, their house or the Inn anyways. There were always others that would take in any strays, even the Dunmer there were good about helping them out.

The day that they'd released him to her, Ulfric's mother had refused to be in the main hall. He remembered how her and his father had fought the night before, and she had left their chambers, locking herself in his old nursery! He'd knocked and knocked, pleading with her through the heavy wooden door, that he didn't have a choice! They had nothing to charge her with! It didn't matter. She refused to come out, and would only allow her servants in to attend to her.

Agnin actually seemed fine about going with her, almost happy for a change. And astoundingly enough, she acted happy to see him, which had confused Ulfric even more. Normally she was yelling at him to get out of her sight.

Right after she had left with him, he had cornered the guard in the barracks, demanding that he tell him! He was tired of being kept in the dark, and Agnin wouldn't tell him! He had to know! Bersrn had taken in a deep breath, and looking around to make sure they wouldn't be heard, he sat him down onto one of the bunks, speaking real low. 

'You're father finds out you know this, an it'll be my hide! So you better not get me in trouble!' He'd promised him, urging him to talk faster! 

Taking off his helmet, he rubbed his forehead with his fingers so hard the tips went almost white. 'From what we know, an what that healer said, it looks like some man that was at his Ma's house had... well... he-'

Looking around and licking his lips nervously, 'He had a go at him, an tore him up pretty bad.'

His stomach dropped. Even though he wasn't quite sure what Bersrn meant, he knew it wasn't good. The most horrible fear sprang up in him, and he was almost too terrified to ask, but now his mind wouldn't be able to rest if he didn't know! 'Wha... What do you mean? A go at him?'

Bersrn's face went white! He rolled his eyes and looked at the wall for a moment. 'Yer father's gonna kill me!' 

He remembered begging him... pleading, assuring him that he was old enough to know! Bersrn couldn't even look at him and say it. 'You know how a man and a woman... they- ' 

He'd quickly nodded. Of course! His mother and father had both talked with him about things. 

'Well... that man... he tried to do that with Agnin, an he got real bad hurt.'

It took him a minute to figure it out. He knew that boys and girls... they weren't the same... their parts. Then it came to him... where that man would've had to... 

Inwardly, he'd gasped! His eyes getting huge, his hand coming up to his mouth! 

Just the realization of it, as soon as it'd hit him, he'd wanted to cry. He would never forget how hearing that, and finally understanding what had actually happened, had made him feel. Bersrn had told him that they'd gone to her house searching for whoever had done it to him, and found the guy passed out. 

They'd brought him to the dungeon, questioning him the next day. His mom was no where to be found. They looked for her for almost two days. Finally one of the stable hands had run through the gates, telling the guard that she'd just walked into the city. 

When she was questioned, she'd simply stated that she;d had business in Kynesgrove. Acting all upset and heartbroken! Wanting to know where her poor little baby was, and why they wouldn't allow her to see him! That they had no right to keep him from her!

When asked if she knew who the guy was, she'd said that he was just an old acquaintance. Although none of the city folk or guard could remember ever seeing him before. Said he was just visiting and had paid her to stay there for a few days. 

And when asked why she'd been gone for so long, and if she knew of his intentions to hurt Agnin, she'd acted real offended! Saying that he was old enough to be on his own for a bit while she worked! She had no idea that he'd be in any danger!

His father had actually asked her, 'Carryn, knowing what he's done to your boy, I'll ask you what you think his punishment should be.'

Bersrn told him that she'd just stared at him for a moment, dumbfounded. Then when she did speak, would only put the responsibility back onto him! When she could've had the mans' life taken that had mauled her son, she refused to take any part! Sayin, 'It's not my place to decide the fate of another.' Telling his father that it would be his choice alone!

The man had stated that he didn't remember anything but sitting by the fire with the boy and getting lit. That he wasn't the type to do something so foul as that! And so after not getting any clear statement from Agnin's mother, nor from the man that had attacked him. 

Even given the state in which they'd found him in inside of her home, and what they could pry from Agnin's lips, Hoag had said he felt the most he could do at that point, was force him to leave. The man had been escorted out of the city and told not to set foot in the hold ever again.

It didn't take questioning Bersrn, for him and everyone else in town to know that just days later, she had walked into the palace with enough gold to pay for her whole years worth of taxes, wearing all brand new clothes. Right then, it was plain to all exactly what'd taken place.

The fact that she could even show her face, astounded everyone. They all knew what she'd done, and they all pitied her son. And even as obvious as it had been, his father still could do nothing to her. There was no actual proof that she knew what the man intended, nor that she was involved. 

Bersrn's last words to him over it had been thus. 'You don't ever let on to Agnin that you know! You hear? You leave it to him to speak on it.'

After that she'd treated him well, actually acting like a real mother. Perhaps it was out of guilt, but whether or not Agnin knew what she'd done, or he just pretended not to, he was glad to have the attention that she was finally giving him. 

But instead of it helping his behavior, he got worse.

They both tried to look after him, get closer to him. More and more, he would chastise him, trying to explain that he needed to change. Making excuse after excuse to the guard, trying to get them to look the other way. Afraid that he would go over the line and get into real trouble, spend time in the dungeon or even worse, get he and his mother both kicked out of the city. 

But this last time the guard had hauled him into the palace! Placing him right before Ulfric's father! He'd been found in a vacant house. He'd picked the lock and broken in. And in his possession, they'd found numerous things that had been reported stolen. Among them, was the family pet of one of their more prominent residents, who'd reported the dog missing. 

At first, the guard had dismissed it, some even laughed about it. While others were a might pissed off. They had real worries trying to protect the city, they didn't have time to go looking for some mutt that had wandered off. Where in oblivion could it go? Their city was walled in for Talos' sake! 

He and Saetad had stood in his father's war room, completely silent, while his father had listened to the guard as he explained what they'd found. Saetad's mouth had fallen open, his head slowly shaking back and forth as he'd taken in the sick look he knew his face bore. He couldn't hide it. This was it. The thing that was going to be the turning point to what his father would tolerate.

At the time this had happened, his mother was dead and had been for a few months. They were all still reeling from her loss, and now this! She had always been Agnin's strongest ally, his source of constant support. The only mother he'd really ever had. And as much as his father agreed with most of what she'd done, she was no longer there to calmly talk him into giving the boy another chance. To be the voice of compassion and reason, that had always held his temper at bay. 

He pitied Agnin, and had tried to do for him, tried to be a father to the boy as much as he could. But he refused to enable this kind of behavior! Not now, when he was clearly harming others! 

Even as the words of question left his mouth, he knew the answer deep inside. 'What do you mean, somethings wrong with him? He jus- '

'He took that dog apart, Ulfric! Like a youngin would take apart a toy. The things he's doing keep getting worse and worse... where do you think this'll end up heading?'

He'd simply swallowed, licking his lips. He knew where this was going. He didn't dare bring up his mother. He couldn't pull that one out and use it, not with the state his father had been in. But that didn't mean he didn't want to. He'd promised her! 

'Look at me. Next time it won't be a dog... it'll be one of our townsfolk. And you know what I'll have to do then, right?'

He'd nodded his head, looking back down. 

'Everyone knows that boy hasn't had an ounce of love in his entire life, other than what we've given to him. We've done all we can for him.'

His large hand had come up to his chin, gently lifting his head so they were eye to eye. 'You know I care for Agnin. But sometimes there's things wrong with people that can't be fixed. I fear that he's headed in a bad direction, and I don't want you connected with him when that happens!'

After speaking with Agnin over what he'd done, he'd made him spend a short time in the dungeon under lock and key, hoping that it would give him something to think over. And even with that, his father had gone down several times and talked with him, making sure that he was comfortable. Neither Ulfric, nor Saetad had been allowed in to see him. His mother had come to see him though, and surprisingly enough, Agnin had turned her away.

Him asking his father about him, and the fact that he was leaving in a few days, had led to the talk they'd had that very night in his father's chambers. 

His alone, now that she was gone. All of her things had still filled the room. Her mirror and hair brush on the vanity across from their bed, the wardrobe's doors had stood open, probably so his father could see her gowns and clothing that hung on the railing inside. The room still smelled of her. All of her favorite herbs and flowers filled bowls and vases.

At the time, he wondered how his father could stand it? Seeing everything that had been hers was so painful, that at times he couldn't bear it! The hurt in his heart was so great. But now he understood that he'd just needed any piece of her close to him. It made him feel that she was still with him, even if just for awhile longer. 

That had been one of the only things that had given him any comfort when he'd found out his father had passed. Knowing that they were finally reunited.

Now that she was gone, his father's need for him to be safe had almost become unbearable as well.

And even though _he_ had been chosen by the Greybeards to live among them for a time and train in the ways of the voice, he also knew that both of his parents had petitioned them with letters. Even going so far as an actual visit from his father right before his Mother had fallen ill. Where they were, and by whom their palace had been built, he believed had also had much to do with the decision as well. He knew this was truth as he'd seen one of the letters before his father had tucked it safely away in his strongbox. 

His mother had wanted him to know the ways of peace and wisdom. She had wanted security for their people, and for the grandchildren that she would never get to see. His father had wanted that as well, but he also wanted to know that his son would have the power to bring his enemies to their knees if need be! That would ensure his safety and that of his heirs! They had a responsibility to Skyrim, to her people and it's future. They had a responsibility to their ancestors. 

The Greybeards longed to preserve their people with the ways of knowledge and peace. They wanted to train him in these ways, so that this may come to be, without the mistakes of the past being revisited. And perhaps if the son of the Jarl that now reigned in this very palace had that knowledge, he would lead their people in the ways the Gods had originally desired.

Even as a young boy, combing through their endless tomes, he understood their vision for him. But without the gift only the Gods could bestow upon him, what would he have, other than this knowledge and the voice? Could they possibly think that if he was taught properly, the way the voice was meant to be used, that perhaps the Gods would deem him fit?

His mind had gone over it and over it, and in the end, it had been useful only in battle. In the end, no gift had come to him.

**

Opening his eyes, he finally looked at him, taking him in. "Give me the key and leave us."

Even as Galmar sputtered, fighting to reign in his concern, Agnin's eyes filled with hope. Ulfric completely ignoring him, holding his hand out, waiting to feel it in his palm. "Ralof, get your gear moved, Wuunferth will be expecting you."

Dropping the key into his Jarl's outstretched hand, he backed away, glaring at Agnin, his arm up and his finger pointed in his direction! Agnin averted his gaze away from him. He already knew what the old Nord was thinking. There was no way that he would ever try to hurt Ulfric. Galmar should know that!

As soon as the door was shut, Ulfric put the key into the lock and turned it, opening his cell door. But instead of allowing him out, he walked in and sat down in the chair opposite the bunk, inside the cell. Reaching over to a crate, next to his small bedside table, he grabbed two of the bottles there and handed him one. "Sit Agnin, and have a drink with me."

They'd made his confines comfortable enough. Bedside table filled with clothing. Books and writing materials stacked on top of it. A crate filled with mead and ale, sat next to the table. The fires had been stoked, and he had been given extra blankets and a pillow. It was really more of a guestroom, than a cell. The only thing it was lacking was a view.

Taking the offered bottle, Agnin sat down on the bunk and pulled the cork, taking a long swill. 

"I would ask if you remember the last drink we shared... but I know we both have the answer to that."

Agnin looked down into his bottle, fingering the opening. Heat from the shame he felt, flooding his face. Markarth... just another disappointment he'd proven to be, and yet Ulfric had sat and drank with him, talking over the past. 

Draining half his bottle, Ulfric wiped his mouth. Wearing his casual clothing, it reminded Agnin of when they were just friends and he was answering to his father, and not him. 

"I miss the days when we were boys, Agnin. When we could all be together, and things were more carefree." 

Ulfric's deep blue eyes filled with sadness as he looked up at him. "I miss my mother, and how she would run to your aid without fail... " As soon as she was mentioned, Agnin's face pinched up, his eyes welling with fresh tears. "I know you miss her as well brother."

Shielding his eyes with his hand, his shoulders slumped, shaking as he wept! "Don't... Ulfric... "

Setting down his bottle, Ulfric slid his chair closer to him, taking hold of him in an embrace, speaking low to him. "How do you think she would feel if she could see your actions? She loved you Agnin."

He held him as he wept. "I don't want you in here... I really don't. I never wanted things to get to this point, but- "

Agnin straightened himself and pulled away. Grabbing the end of his tunic, he lifted it up and wiped his face, then let it loose. "What'r you saying?"

"We're not boys anymore Agnin." Ulfric looked up at him, "I know what really happened to Carryn... I know that it wasn't an illness that took her."

He wouldn't ask him who had told, it no longer mattered. What mattered, was that he was bringing it up now. "Is... Is _that_ why I'm in here?!" 

His face looked incredulous! Ulfric watched as Agnin's eyes filled with a cold, dark hate! A look that sent a flash of ice right down his spine. Like he was looking at a completely different person. Someone that he didn't even know. Just the mention of her had changed him. 

Speaking through bared teeth, he growled out his words! "Then you'll know that she didn't get nowhere near what she deserved! _You know!"_

"That's not why you're in here. And yes, I know that she deserved more than she got. Everyone in town knew it, Agnin. I also know that's why my father never charged you with her death."

Agnin stood up, pacing to the other end of the cell, the toe of his boot scuffing at the stone floor as he listened.

"You should've felt avenged afterward... but you didn't. You still couldn't find peace."

He didn't know what to say. There was nothing he _could_ say. It was truth. Once she'd drawn her last breath, he'd honestly believed that his pain would die with her, and it hadn't.

"I promised my mother that I'd look after you. That night when you were brought to the palace, hurt. She made me promise."

Agnin turned to him, fighting the crushing pain that threatened to tear his heart apart.

Ulfric stared down at the floor, the now empty bottle clutched tightly within his hands. "But there's a part of you, Agnin, that's out of your control. And right now, I feel that you and everyone else around you is safer with you in here."

Ulfric looked up at him. "That's me, keeping my promise to her."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just so you know, the last drink they shared was Markarth, that doesn't mean it was the last time they'd seen one another. It was just the last time things were that friendly. I also couldn't find a single thing about Ulfric's mother anywhere, so I'm making it work for me.


	34. Borders

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hjornskar stared at the orders in disbelief. Written in the Jarl's own hand, not his housecarl's.
> 
> Giving the parchment one more glance over before his eyes once again took in his subordinate, who was dressed not in his uniform, but in the clothes of a commoner.
> 
> "Can you at least tell me why?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Tag warning** If you felt at all sorry for Agnin before, I can almost guarantee that you won't after this. I regret nothing.  
> Also, just because I write from a certain perspective or standpoint doesn't mean that is my own personal view.  
> Thanks for your patience and for reading.

Blank stare, disrepair  
There's a big black hole gonna eat me up someday  
Someday fades away, like a memory  
Or a place that you'd rather be  
Some place lost in space  
Itch in my head that's telling me somewhere  
Somewhere out there, anywhere  
I don't care  
Get me out of here

**

"We actually haven't had any new applicant's for over a month now."

The fact that he should be hiding his shock from this Dunmer no longer mattered. His stomach dropped, his throat threatening to close up in fear! The Arch-Mage's words faded into the distance, till the only thing he could hear was the rushing of blood through his ears. "What do you... what do you mean, you haven't had any... "

Abruptly, Savos stopped speaking, watching the actions of the newly arrived Thalmor.

Panic gripped his heart!! His hands flew up to his mouth! _He should have been here days ago!_

The most horrible need to cry out flooded through him! He swallowed, closing his eyes for a moment, trying to calm himself! "How many Altmer are here?"

Leveling his amber eyes onto the now speech-stricken Dunmer, he no longer cared how he, himself, appeared. If something had happened to Athelleen, he may as well end his own life right here and now! "Are there... are there any males?"

**

Going past the Mill, they kept to the trees along side the road, moving into it only when necessary. Periodically they'd move down and ride alongside the water's edge looking for any tracks there as well, allowing their horses to drink and refilling their skins.

He wasn't sure if the man was smart enough to stay off the road or not? It seems like he'd want to be seen at some point. He honestly didn't think he'd planned to walk the entire way to Solitude. Which meant he planned to get somewhere, or to someone that he could trust enough to give him a ride. There was just as much gamble in walking in the woods sometimes as there was walking down the roadways.

The stablehands and _their_ carriage driver hadn't seen him, they'd been the first ones questioned before they'd set off. Which meant that he was trying to stay hidden. Stay hidden and keep to the warmer grounds. Even if he knew their driver personally, he evidently didn't trust him not to rat him out or he'd have taken that route, which would've been the fastest and most comfortable way back to his home.

Soldin rode next to him. Valund was scouting up ahead searching for tracks, the boy and the Stormcloak soldier that remained, taking up the rear. Finally they'd found some prints of someone that had primarily stayed to the side of the road. Of course it was possible they were his, they were fresh enough and seemed to match what they'd found leaving the hunter's camp. They'd moved toward the road in the direction the tracks were heading and then they'd lost them.

"Was there any particular reason he would leave you?" His eyes combing through the trees as he spoke in a hushed tone, "Did he fear for his life? Fill me in some here."

Taking a swallow from his water skin, Soldin closed it back up and spit onto the ground. "Nope. He wasn't in fear of us at all, not after Agnin left. He knew we planned to take him back to Solitude. We'd only stopped there to rest up and get warm, decide which route we wanted to take."

"Then why did he leave you? When he would've had an armed escort back to his home?"

The sound of a bird up ahead of them halted their movement. Looking through the brush at the redhead, they strained to listen. "We got prints here as well. Still fresh enough to be his." He rode back, joining them for a moment, comparing those that he'd just found to the ones they'd been following.

Kjelhe led his mount up along side of Valund, keeping watch on the ground, but also listening to what his brother said to the Dovahkiin.

"Last night, we'd all been pretty upset. Getting turned away, and knowing how important that young Elf was... "

Running a hand over his brow nervously, before he could speak again, Valund cut in, placing the stopper in his water skin. "We ran our mouths and that driver, he just sat over there by himself and listened! None of us thought about it right then. All of us had been too well lit to really think on anything but our own plight! But the thought did strike us that _you_ might be comin back to make sure we stayed quiet."

Pulling on the reigns, Saetad stopped. "So what you're telling me is that none of you really know what's going through his head!"

For a moment all of them were still, just thinking it over and watching the look of concern on the Dovah's face grow when Kjelhe's voice cut through the silence. "You tell us that you're no friend of Agnin's. But you all took him in and then had him give us the sendoff that he did... "

Slowly Saetad rode over to Kjelhe, who had stopped dead in his tracks. His eyes taking in every inch of the boy's face as it grew crimson red, tiny beads of sweat popping up on his brow. Everyone froze as the Dovah's large hand reached out and took hold of Kjelhe's leathers, pulling the boy nearly off his horse and right up into his face!

Kjelhe's breath caught in his throat! Saetad was so close, he could hear him swallow, watch the pupils in his eyes dilate. But even with the fear that he could see in him and feel coming off from him, the boy's eyes never once left his. 

Speaking so close that his warm breath fluttered across his sweat-dampened skin, "If I didn't respect the balls you've evidently got to speak to me that way, I'd be boxing your ears boy!"

The leather in his grasp creaked as his fist tightened, holding Kjelhe where he was. "No one told him to say what he said!"

Extending his arm just enough to allow Kjelhe's bottom to once again touch back down onto the mount's back, his hand still held tightly onto him as he looked at each one of them in turn. "The Windhelm driver came up to the palace and told us what Agnin said to the lot of you! Said that he knew who's carriage it was! We had no idea what all had happened and who any of you were, except that you were with him!"

Fighting to control his breathing, Kjelhe lowered his eyes, trying to ignore the massive hand that still held him. "I- I meant no disrespect. Wha- what I meant was, Thaer was real bad shaken up over what happened before we left the ruin we'd been at with the Mer."

Slowly, Saetad released him. "Say what you have to."

Kjelhe's deep blue eyes locked with his under long auburn lashes. "Thaer was pretty sick over it, and he was real scared for the Mer... even after finding out who he was." He licked his lips, his eyes shifting between Valund and his brother, back to the Dovah. "We all were. Thaer... well, after that sendoff and you takin Agnin in... "

Saetad straightened back on his horse, his eyes were settled on the boy, but what he was seeing was something else entirely. Fighting the panic that kept wanting to creep up into his heart, he swallowed. "You're thinking that he's gone for help." 

Slowly, his eyes met all of their's. "And not just for himself either. I'm right, aren't I? You don't think he's just trying to find a way home or he would've just stayed with the lot of you, wouldn't he?"

Valund met Kjelhe's eyes and held them, his face growing more and more stern as he spoke. "It's obvious we don't know for sure. Fact is that he's gone. He took our gold, some supplies and left while we slept."

Saetad watched the boy as he broke Valund's gaze and looked down at his hands. His thumbs worrying over the reigns he held. His face showed everything he felt. It was a dead giveaway. He was too young still to know when he should hide it and when he shouldn't. The face of an honest boy, raised by an honest man. Problem was, it made him readable! Completely transparent to anyone that had enough life under their belt.

Seeing the emotions all over the boy and knowing that they _all_ evidently held some concern for the young Mer they'd handed over. Even though they'd gone to the trouble of capturing him and handing him over! Which he definitely planned to get more clarification on later. There was something that was being kept from him, he was sure of it. And Kjelhe still wouldn't meet his gaze again after spilling his guts.

Turning his mount, he watched as the redhead stared at the boy, as if willing him to be silent. Valund rode over to Kjelhe, actually taking his reigns and leading his horse along with his. "You're comin up here with me... two sets of eyes are better." Kjelhe remained completely silent, allowing his horse to be led away.

Saetad looked over at Soldin, his head tilting. "There needs to be trust between us. Don't you agree?"

He eyed his brother for a moment longer, riding up ahead beside Valund. "Aye there does, but it's complicated. And truthfully, we don't know what he has planned."

As they themselves began moving again, Soldin lowered his voice, "You have to understand, what we've been subject to under Agnin... well, it was pretty severe. I can tell you, once we get to Windhelm and can see for ourselves that he's locked up and we know we're safe, we'll share everything with you. You can trust us."

Saetad nodded, he understood. From what he'd seen growing up with Agnin and being around him in battle. Then hearing about the things that he hadn't seen, he knew that Agnin was sick. He was a sick man. That didn't mean that he had no sympathy for what he'd lived through. For what had possibly turned him this way. But he had absolutely no tolerance for him. None at all.

There was a difference between losing control in the heat of the battle and being what he was. He enjoyed harming others. He enjoyed torturing, whether he was the one doing it or he was witness to it. He got off on it.

Someone like that was a liability. A hindrance, causing nothing but strife wherever he went. The things that he'd seen himself when they'd retaken Markarth. The things that he and Galmar had found out, neither of them could believe that Ulfric hadn't just ended him right then. That's what should've been done. That's what he'd wanted. But Ulfric, even as much as he detested what Agnin did, still cared for the man. He felt sorry for him. He felt responsible.

Deep down, he didn't believe that Ulfric would ever have the strength to do what would end up being necessary when the time came. He hadn't thus far, just like his father hadn't all those years ago. It would end up falling onto someone else to take care of.

No, he understood why Soldin wanted to ensure their safety before divulging too much. Especially having his young brother with him. And as much as he wanted and needed to know everything that had transpired while they'd been in Agnin's company, a big part of him was afraid to.

He for one, couldn't get how the Mer had said Agnin's name and the terror that had been in his voice when he'd said it, out of his mind. And as much as Ulfric detested that Mer, he knew it was on his mind as well.

Again Soldin watched his brother and Valund up ahead, noting the movement of their mouths and he wondered what was being said. And looking at where the Dovah's eyes were, he was probably wondering as well.

He didn't want anything to happen to Thaer, none of them did. Gods knew the man had suffered enough over the last days since they'd taken them. He couldn't stop thinking about how this whole situation fell onto their heads. There was no doubt that the Mer and Thaer both, probably would have both gone on their way and would more than likely be safe and sound right now, had it not been for them.

He could point the finger in Agnin's direction all he wanted. But in the end, the three of them had led the party that done the capturing. That wasn't to say that something wouldn't have happened to them at the hands of someone else while they'd traveled. But it may not have either.

Taking a deep breath, licking his still parched lips. "Thaer's acting out of fear, Saetad."

Their eyes met, "Aye, that's how things appear."

"I don't know a lot about the man... none of us do. But... "

"Just say what you have to say, Soldin."

Soldin took a deep breath, spitting out what'd been plaguing him. "I don't know if he'd have the stones to run his mouth, whether he's afraid for that Mer or not. But he's afraid for his own life, or he'd still be in our company! And it wasn't _us_ he was in fear of! What I'm telling you, is that I don't know where his allegiance lies. And after the days he's spent with us, and what he's been witness to and what's happened to him, I'd say it's a fair possibility that how the man feels about things may have taken a turn."

Saetad stopped, raising his hand motioning for the others, he closed his eyes for a second and shook his head in frustration. Gods! He felt like he was searching for a needle in a damned haystack! The man had been gone for hours before they'd even realized they needed to start a fucking search! And if he'd gotten hold of a horse or a carriage, he could be anywhere by now!

Waiting till they all gathered round him, seeing the question in each one's eyes over what they were doing. He'd gone over it and over it in his mind since he'd found out that the carriage driver was missing. And the more he found out, the worse that feeling in his guts was getting. He didn't want to believe that Thaer would be stupid enough to go to the Imperials with this. But with the situation and the way things were sounding, it was a risk that he just couldn't ignore.

When they'd first found out that the carriage driver was the one from Solitude, instantly, he knew that the same thought had run through all their minds. That he was on the Empire's side. It had been automatic, even though he'd had no proof. 

He was judging, simply by where the man was from. Assuming that was where his allegiance lay. He may have been wrong. But now, because of their own sympathizer's actions and what had been done to the man by them, someone that may have actually been on their side, was now possibly running to their enemy.

Of course, they all knew that there were people in Solitude that didn't really hold for the Empire's ways. You couldn't always help where you lived, who was in control, and what was going on around you. That held true for everyone, everywhere. And usually that meant that those that didn't agree, being surrounded by the Empire's and Torygg's supporters, pretty much had to stay silent about how they felt and just deal with it, lest their lives be ruined.

He didn't really feel that was right of course. Everyone should have a fair say in things that affected them. Even though it had taken drastic steps to start the wheels turning, starting with the High King's death, those that were being stepped on would now have their say!

Ulfric had pained over his decision, but in the end he'd known it was the only way to set things in motion. To get their people's and the Empire's attention. Like birth pains it was. You had to go through some agony before you could embrace the reward.

With what had happened during the war and after, with the Concordat being signed and the Thalmor coming into their lands and arresting their people, he had to admit that there were times he struggled with his own prejudices. When your beliefs were being stomped on, and your freedom was in jeopardy, it was easy at times to suspect or judge every Elf he saw, even though he knew in his heart that wasn't right either.

His own father and mother taught him to put himself in the other's position. His father had told him that if he did that every time he was quick to judge or hate, it would sober his heart and his mind. It would make him think more fairly and clearly.

His father was right, if they tried to take freedoms away from others in order to gain their own, were they any different from what they were fighting against?

The end goal to him, would be for free worship to be allowed for all races. For all their races to live in peace with one another. He knew that the only way for that to ever happen, would be for the Thalmor to be stopped! Permanently. Then perhaps it would be possible. 

Of course, Galmar didn't quite agree with him on that, and he was constantly in Ulfric's ear over it, trying to push him without thought to the consequences.

He was glad to be with Ulfric once again, that this power he'd been gifted with that he could be a positive force for their cause. And hopefully because of that, things would go in the right direction from this, instead of them moving backward. Simply proving to the Elves that they were no better than the tyrants the Thalmor were or the Mer killers of old, that their own people had been.

Galmar's ideals, to him, were too much like that of their ancestor's. If they held with those beliefs, they would eventually be fighting all of Tamriel, and he and their people would end up being punished. Just like so many that came before him had been, for the misuse of their power and the gift that had been bestowed upon them by the Gods. Their goal, and their only goal, should be to restore their freedoms and to regain peace!

He did however, refuse to roll over like a dog for the damned Thalmor in order to gain that peace, which was exactly what their Empire was doing! The Empire had served their purpose, and now their time was over. He planned to make sure of that personally.

Leading them all out into the stone pathway, he turned and faced them. "Thaer is a well known man. Which means that anyone that's not a criminal will most likely aid him!" 

Noting Kjelhe's cringe, along with the change of expression on the other two's faces, he continued. "The chances that he's gotten hold of someone that will give him a ride, or lend him a horse by now are fairly good!"

Looking at each one of them, "I feel safe in assuming that he plans to tell someone of what has happened to him, as any that know him will want to know why he's on foot and without his carriage. That also means that he may have plans to say something about the Mer that we have as well. We're going to stick mainly to the road from here on out. We're avoiding Stormcloak areas, as he would not be seeking aid from someone that he's trying to avoid. We're going to head toward Whiterun."

Turning toward the soldier, "Get back to Windhelm, tell them _I said_ to prepare for the worst! We're going to keep looking, but there's a good chance he's already gotten to someone. Ulfric can't take the chance on waiting for my return before he acts!" 

They needed to be getting ready for what was inevitably going to come. And that meant he had to hurry back, Windhelm was going to need everyone she could get.

"Yes Dovahkiin."

With that, the soldier turned, urging his horse into a gallop down the pathway.

Watching the retreating form for a second, Saetad turned back toward them. "We're going to ask anyone that we come across if they've seen him. You'll let me do the talking. Let's move!"

**

It had taken awhile and some lies to get him calmed enough where he felt comfortable in leaving him. Appealing to Agnin's hatred toward the Thalmor and Mer kind in general, had always been the trick to getting his allegiance. No matter what was going on.

He'd told him that the Elf was in _no way_ a guest! He was their prisoner! But that with the loathing he knew Agnin held for them, and his history of losing control, he was to remain here for a time while they handled things.

He'd left him laying down and resting prior to his meal being brought, with the agreement that he was not to be screaming and yelling. If they were to win this fight, his soldiers and his guard needed peace and quiet while they tried to rest. Even though Agnin didn't care for the fact that he was still under lock and key, he'd agreed.

The Mer they had held untold value, Agnin knew that, but if he was given the chance to hurt the Mer, he would. Ulfric knew that. And while Agnin would tell him that he wouldn't, he would give his word and promise him that he wouldn't. Ulfric knew that sooner or later, the Elf would end up in Agnin's hands when no one was watching. Agnin would make sure of it.

He would rape him, and then he would torture him. Knowing Agnin, he would lose total control and possibly kill him, regretting it later. Of course, only regretting it because of what it would mean to him and their cause, not because he cared at all for the Mer.

By then it would be too late. Irreparable damage would end up being done and he simply couldn't risk it.

He would never understand it, how some men could lay with another of the same sex, whether they were Mer or not, they were still male. Before he'd left for his training, he'd spoken to his father about it, asking him some very uneasy questions. It was something that he could've never broached with his mother, he would've all but died from embarrassment had he.

Finally coming clean about the fact that he knew what'd happened to Agnin, they'd sat in his father's room before the fire. His father giving him a tiny bit of mead in a cup, telling him that he was becoming a man and that a little wouldn't hurt him. Before that, when his mother was still alive, she would only allow it on special occasions and celebrations.

Once in awhile, his father would sneak him some, giving him a wink and telling him that it was their secret. That night, he knew that his father, even as he'd poured it, was wishing she was still there to scold him. He knew, because from the glow of the fire, he could see the fleeting smile that lit his aging face, only for it to vanish, being swiftly replaced with the heartbreaking sadness that still lingered in the palace.

Hoag had taken a swallow, then looking down into the cup, he swirled it around lightly. Telling him that he wouldn't ask how he'd found out. Just that he didn't believe that it was Agnin that'd told him. 'That's something I think that lad will take to his grave.' he'd said. He'd also said that he knew that Agnin was troubled before it'd happened and it definitely hadn't helped him. 'You've seen how his behavior has become more and more violent.'

Simply nodding his head, he sipped on the precious mead. Asking him how a man could do that to a boy, that he'd felt sick after knowing.

His father had let out a deep sigh, briefly closing his eyes before grabbing another bottle and uncorking it. 'Times like these I wish your mother was here.' Pouring just a little more into his cup, 'Then I could give some of these questions over to her.'

Biting onto the inside of his lip, he'd turned red, telling him that he wouldn't have asked her! Hoag let loose with a chuckle, 'No, you'd have asked me, and then I would've sent you to her. Fathers give over the things they aren't good at boy. And I'm none too proud to admit it.'

He'd realized that, after his mother had tended to Agnin, while he'd been there from being hurt. She had a strength to her. His father couldn't have been in that room with him for long and dealt with it. Agnin had needed a mother. In all actuality, he'd known before then just how strong she'd been. Anytime one of their guard or a soldier was brought in wounded, she was the first one with the healers, tending to them. She'd cared about everyone, even the Merfolk.

Taking a drink, he let out another sharp breath. 'Some people Ulfric, are sick... in a different kind of way. Any person that wants to lay with a child, I think, is sick in their mind. That's all I can tell you. I don't understand what causes it, and I don't know of any that do.'

Taking a quick sip of his mead, he'd released his cup just long enough to wipe his sweating hands on his leggings, picking it back up again. 'I... I heard that some men like to be with men though. Are they sick as well? Isn't that the same?'

Keeping his eyes downward, he knew that as silent as his father was, that he was staring at him and he didn't dare meet his eyes! As soon as they'd overheard what they'd heard, it'd gone round and round in his mind till he couldn't take it. Terrified to ask him, but having to know, he figured it was the best time. He was leaving soon and couldn't dream of asking old men that he'd never met.

His father's stern voice forced his eyes upward. 'I will be asking who told you that!'

He could still remember how loudly he'd swallowed. 'Me and Saetad... we overheard the man in the streets that's always begging. I swear we didn't ask anyone! He didn't know we heard!'

His father had downed his mead, this time instead of pouring more into a cup, he held onto the bottle. He didn't look at him either. He just stared into the fire. 'No... that's different.'

His father's large hands grasped the bottle, his thumb picking at the worn label. 'Some men would rather be with another man. I can't tell you why Ulfric, because I don't know. I won't say I think it's right, but I won't condemn those that do it either.'

That was the last thing his father had said on it. Over the years of course, he'd heard his own tales and seen some things with his own eyes. Some he'd like to forget, right along with what'd been done to him. One of those very things, had been done by the man he'd had locked up and had just sat talking to.

Out of all the things that still haunted him in the darkness, that was one of them. It wasn't like he wanted to think about it. But dealing with him again and having him here, was almost as bad as having that fucking Elf here! All it was doing was dredging up the Gods-be-damned past!

Having him with them during the battle at Markarth was a mistake. He'd known that right away.

Of course, just before and during the battle, many of the Forsworn had fled the city and went into the surrounding wilderness. Those that were overtaken or charged with treason lay dead. And of course, there were those that they'd captured. He, himself, had taken part in some of the torture. He was not proud of all that had happened, nor of what he had condoned. The fact that it had been a bloodbath was an understatement.

During that time, his pain and torment... his rage, had driven many of his actions. Only after it was all over, had he fully realized that many had died that hadn't needed to. Saetad and Galmar, both being by his side as well, and just as bloodthirsty as he'd been at the time. Being led by their anger over what their Empire was doing, especially after what he'd been through. They'd mourned his father along side him after his return.

It was their chance to fight to right some of the wrongs that had been done, and that were being done. They all felt helpless over the treaty, and what it was going to mean to their people. What it would do to their land and their future.

In the end, it'd caused nothing but more grief for Markarth and their people. Enraging the Thalmor and urging them to take more aggressive action in Skyrim. Adding needlessly to the already high death toll. 

He definitely had his share of regrets.

It was after he'd come down from the adrenaline high that the battle had given him. He'd left the torture room, wiping the blood from his hands, feeling the need to drink anything he could get his hands on. Not only to numb himself from the torrent of emotion coursing through him, but to kill the sour taste that had taken over his mouth.

Grabbing a bottle, he walked outside. He had to breathe fresh air... just get out of there and breathe! As soon as he'd walked outside, he'd regretted it. The sound of sobbing and wailing filled the air. People wandered aimlessly around in a state of shock. People of all ages, huddled together consoling one another, grieving for those they'd lost. Many, helping to carry the dead, hauling them out of the city to be burned or buried. The looks on the faces of all those that passed him... the fear that had filled their eyes.

Turning away from it, he'd gone back inside, shutting the door behind him. They'd received word from the Empire that they were thankful for their help. Imperial soldiers were on their way to help re-establish law back to the city.

His words had been thus, that as soon as they were seen, the gates were to be locked! His demand to allow free worship of Talos would be granted before a single Imperial would set foot inside! If his demands were not met, it would become a city in hostage.

Downing the bottle, he called out to one of his men, asking him if he'd seen Agnin. The Nord simply pointed towards a door and walked away. Staring after him in confusion, he'd walked up to it and lifted the latch, pushing it open. Taking a second for his eyes to adjust to the dim light, his words died in his throat. 'Agn- '

It'd actually taken a minute for what he was seeing to even register, and then all he could do was stand there and stare in complete shock. Agnin was bent over the limp body of a young Breton man that couldn't have even been twenty. His breeches down around his ankles as he pounded into him from the rear.

He stood there, gaping at the sight before him. The young man had to be dead... he had to be. Moving to the side of the doorway, simply in order to see the face of the Breton better. His glassy eyes were partially open, staring blankly out at nothing. His mouth was open, blood and saliva streaking the stone floor as his body was pushed about by the force of Agnin's thrusts.

Involuntarily, his hands had come up to cover his mouth as it had begun to water in nausea. He couldn't tear his eyes away from the young man's head, his hair was a dark, crimson red... glistening in the candle light as if it were wet. His eyes moved to the red and black pile that sat to the side of Agnin, his stomach lurched as he realized what it was! 

Hair and flesh... scalps.

Clamping his hand down hard onto his mouth, he bent over as the vomit sprayed through his fingers and onto the stone floor directly behind Agnin! Turning from the sight, he'd actually ran from the room, running headlong into Saetad, his hand fell away from his mouth, vomit covering his friend's boots! He went down onto his knees. The only thing he was aware of for a few minutes was Saetad's hand coming down onto his shoulder, the giant redhead calling for one of their men to aid him.

The blood had been rushing so violently through his ears, that he didn't hear what'd happened when Saetad went into the room. He'd been led away by a soldier and gotten cleaned up. Laying down onto a bunk in an empty room, he held his stomach while he fought the tears that threatened to overtake him. 

Right then, as he'd lain there, he'd given himself the very same lecture that he'd just given to Agnin. _What would his mother think, if she could see his actions?_

Could he have faced her, after all that he'd done there and allowed to be done? For awhile he'd lain alone in silence, his mind reeling as he tried to force the horrid picture from his mind. Later on, after he'd recovered some from it, he'd gotten up and keeping himself away from the torture rooms, he'd told Galmar to have all such activities ceased. If he heard one more person crying or screaming, he'd fucking lose it!

After the old Nord had returned from carrying out his demands, Saetad joined them. He sat down, and simply stared at him. His blue eyes shifting constantly between he and Galmar. Finally, after realizing that he didn't plan to speak, or rather that perhaps he just couldn't after what had happened, felt the need to fill him in.

Like the person that had just witnessed something too horrific or mind blowing to believe and just had to share it. Even though no one else wanted to know and would regret being told. It was almost as if they felt by telling it, they could possibly purge it from their mind.

'I just beat Agnin... I don't know if he's gonna make it.'

He remembered gaping at him... they both had. Their mouths hanging open, taking him in and realizing that he was covered in blood. His knuckles were raw and bleeding, laced with cuts. He stared blankly into the fire before them, 'I hope he doesn't... '

Galmar got up and moved in front of him, looking into his eyes. 'What in Oblivion are you-- what happened?!'

And then he told them. Telling them a lot more than what he'd seen himself, when he'd been frozen, standing there in that doorway. Saetad had seen it all. He knew it all. Evidently, Agnin had gotten hold of a teenager. For whatever reason he'd had him, Saetad couldn't get out of him. In Agnin's mind, he'd probably had just cause to do what he did.

Getting him away from everyone else, so no one could see what he was doing, he'd bound him and cut out his tongue, then raped him. He also couldn't get out of him whether the scalping had been done prior, or during. The young man had died while being raped, Agnin demanded that he was alive when he'd started. 

Saetad had turned to him, the most incredulous look on his face. Tears had left his eyes, 'Like it fucking matters! Like it fucking matters if the kid was alive or dead?'

He'd bolted up from his chair! Pointing his finger at Ulfric, demanding that he kill Agnin! That if he didn't, _he_ would!

Galmar had taken hold of his arms and forced him out of the room, leaving Ulfric to sit alone while they talked it out in the hallway. Galmar calming him and sending him to a separate room to cool down. When it was all said and done, he couldn't do it. He just couldn't. He'd sent a healer to the room Agnin lay in, and sat with him while he was being healed. He sipped on broth, and forced down pieces of bread trying to calm his ailing stomach, giving some to Agnin, while they talked about old times and Agnin cried.

No, he'd done right in having him locked up. He may not have the strength to kill him, but he did have enough to keep him from getting at anyone else. Raising the bottle of mead, he drained it, eyeing the bowl of stew that sat untouched on the table next to him. Kicking off his boots, he crossed his feet, letting the heat from the fire warm them through his woolen socks.

Tearing off a piece of bread from the small loaf that sat resting on a platter next to some eider, he dunked it into the bowl. That first taste hit him just right, making him realize just how hungry he really was, and he picked up the spoon and dug in. If he didn't eat now, only Gods knew what else would happen as night took them and then his guts would be so riled up that he wouldn't be able to.

He thought over things as he ate. Ralof's gear was settled in his new quarters. Right before he'd gone to his own room to relax for evening meal he'd checked in on Wuunferth.

The Wizard had carefully and quietly stepped out of the room, closing the door. Evidently the Mer was awake and getting help from his Captain to sip on some warm broth. He intended to give him another remedy and another healing spell before he passed out again, but that things were looking promising. Apologizing profusely for not allowing him into the room.

And again he'd told him quietly, that he didn't really want to see the Mer or be in his presence either. Not after the day he'd had. That he was simply checking on his progress.

Setting down the empty bowl, he pushed the platter away, grabbed another bottle and looked at the leather duffle that lay on his bed as he pulled the cork out. He wasn't really in the mood to look at that today either. He wasn't in the mood to deal with any of it right now... but that didn't matter.

Red from the setting sun was barely visible now, and the oil lamps had all been lit as the shadows grew. Fires had been stoked, and meals served. He hadn't heard anything else since their men had come back from Saetad's party.

So far they knew that he'd found the three bandits that had been in Agnin's company, but that the Solitude carriage driver was missing from them. He'd sent them back here with the message that he'd gained the men's trust, and that they would be accompanying him along with one other of their soldiers in looking for the missing Nord. They also found out, that there was no love lost between Agnin and the men he'd been traveling with. He wasn't surprised.

He also was very interested in hearing everything that they could tell him when they returned. He wanted to know more about the Thalmor that had been in Agnin's custody. Just thinking about that made him doubly glad Agnin was locked up. He literally couldn't believe just how much more at ease he felt just knowing that. And though he didn't hold an ounce of sympathy for any Thalmor, he could only imagine what the Mer had suffered at Agnin's hands.

What irritated him the most about it, was the fact that the Mer was dead! If a Thalmor Justiciar or Wizard was willing to spill information to keep this young Aldmeri safe, he couldn't even fathom what he would've been willing to share with them!

Now that they had this young Heir, they needed to get hold of another Thalmor... another game piece that would be willing to squawk to insure their prize's safety. He'd finally be able to gain a look into the inside of their operations, and possibly know what they were thinking.

His mind flew back to the bandits. He knew that Saetad had offered them a permanent place among them, warm beds and meals. If they'd gone to the trouble of being with Agnin, while they didn't like his company, they were more than likely in it for a pardon. A place back among their people. 

Once he had a chance to sit and speak with them, they might turn out to be formidable allies. Exactly what they needed! And if they didn't like Agnin, it meant they weren't cut of his cloth... bandit or no.

Of course, the whole time he'd been hearing this information from their soldiers, Galmar was fuming, his mind fixated on what blame he could possibly lay at Saetad's feet. So far, other than sending them away in the first place, Saetad had done everything to the best of his ability. He was putting him and their cause... their people, first!

As soon as the soldiers had gone down to the barracks, he'd pulled him aside, speaking quietly. 'I need you united right now, not pulling apart! I'm already stressed old friend, I don't need this! If you can see that the other is possibly making an error, work together on it as a team. It's no different than when we were in the Legion!'

Galmar had stood there speechless for the first time that he could remember in a very long time. 'You watched him send those men away. If you thought it was the wrong move, the time to say something was then! So in my eyes, you're both in error! Not just him! We'll be talking more about it when he returns.'

As soon as he'd gotten the words out, Galmar had turned and walked back down to the barracks without uttering a sound, and he'd retreated to his room. They both needed their space.

Closing his eyes, he leaned his head back against the chair. He thought about the duffle again. Before the urge to really stand and walk over to it took him, frantic knocking at his door sounded off.

"Enter." Opening his eyes, Galmar stood next to the soldier that had remained with Saetad. Sitting up, he turned. "What news do you have for me?"

Giving a slight bow, the soldier walked closer holding his helmet in his hands, he was out of breath. "My Lord, Saetad ordered me to return! He's gone on with the men, but he fears the carriage driver has been able to reach help. His lead on them was far too great."

Ulfric stood, crossing his arms, the bottle still tightly clutched within his hand. "Go on."

Fraun swallowed hard, clutching his helmet tighter. "He said you couldn't wait for his return to act. That we need to prepare for the worst."

Taking the cork out of his bottle, he rolled it in between his thumb and forefinger. "So he fears the carriage driver will speak about the Elf?"

"Aye, the men said that he wasn't in fear of them, so much as he was Agnin." 

Fraun lowered his voice. "Kept talking to the Dovah about what'd happened at some ruin they were at, prior to bringing the Elf here. They wouldn't say what, just that he was bad shaken over it. Said they weren't sure where his allegiance was, that if it was with you, it may not be now."

Moving in closer, like it was a secret. "They feel he has sympathy for that Elf."

Handing Fraun the bottle, "Where were they headed?"

Holding onto the bottle like it was made of gold, and even though he fought to control his expression, his obvious excitement still shone through. "Whiterun, My Lord. Dovah said they would be avoiding any area heavy with our soldiers."

Ulfric nodded to him, raising a hand he placed it on his shoulder. "You've done well. Are you up to helping me further this night?"

Fraun's face literally filled with pride as he stood at attention. "Aye, My Lord!"

"I want you to take several others, and meet back up with Saetad and those men. Tell them that they are to return here by my orders! If he hasn't been spotted, then there's no reason to continue after him. I'll need them all back here to help us prepare!"

Giving Fraun's shoulder a squeeze, he lowered his hand. "One other thing. Change into regular armor. I don't want any of you to draw unnecessary attention."

Though his eyes filled with question, he answered. "Aye..." Turning away holding the bottle, he left the room and headed down the hallway. 

Walking over to the pull cord that hung by the mantle, he gave it a yank, ringing for his servant. Galmar stayed where he was, watching him. "What do you plan to do Ulfric? We can't put word out yet, we don't even know if he's talked or will talk!"

Ulfric turned to him, "I have no intention of putting word out, but we have to assume that he's going to talk. I'm doing what I should've done as soon as that Elf arrived here! I've wasted time, and that's something that we just can't afford."

Walking over to his father's old writing desk, lighting the lamp that sat on the corner, he opened the top drawer and fished around for a moment. Galmar moved closer, watching as Ulfric pulled out a stack of parchment, a quill and a bottle of ink. A knock at the door made them both turn. An elderly Nord woman stood in the doorway. 

"Ansi, I'll be in need of a kettle and some tea."

"Yes, My Lord." Immediately she turned and left them.

Galmar's mouth dropped, looking at him like he'd lost his mind! "Tea? What do you- "

"I need thirty eight soldiers, gather them and get them ready. No Stormcloak gear or uniforms. We're splitting them into groups of four. One will be dressed in plain clothes, acting as a courier. The three with them, will be armored as escorts."

Noting the confused look on his housecarl's face, he continued. "Each group will travel to a separate Stormcloak camp, delivering my message." 

Opening another drawer, he pulled out his seal stamp, placing it next to the bottle of ink, taking the thin cat tail stem, he placed the end in the lamp's flame igniting it once again and lit a small candle.

Sitting down at the table, he paused as Ansi walked in. Placing the kettle on the rung to heat. From the tray she'd held, she set a large cup down onto the stonework that surrounded the fire, along with a strainer and some tea leaves, then left.

Once she'd departed and closed the door, Ulfric took a piece of parchment, pulled the stopper from the bottle of ink and dipped the quill, preparing to write. Galmar looked down at him, his mouth still hanging open. 

"And what is the message?"

Sitting back in the chair, he looked up at him. "We're pulling back."

Galmar's face burned with instant fury! His hands dropped to his sides, clenching up into fists. "What?!" He could tell the old Nord was fighting to keep his composure, and failing miserably! "Pulling back?!"

"We're not retreating. We're preparing to defend our Hold. With what's coming, I don't need our soldiers scattered all over Skyrim, I need them here! Protecting our Hold and it's borders!"

**

Every single man and woman in the camp gawked at them as they rode in and dismounted. Those that were sitting or laying, stood.

Under different circumstances, if they were called to fall back and he had to deliver this message to his comrades, he'd have been devastated. But this was different. And once the soldiers here found out why they were being called back, they would feel just as he did. Excited and proud. 

All the soldiers and guard at Windhelm, that were guarding the city, already knew who they held. None of these here, did. None of the camps knew. They hadn't wanted to risk someone's mouth getting out of control and screwing things up.

Jarl Ulfric had told them all his plans before they'd left. He'd stood before them and spoke, telling them that they weren't giving up on anything! That they were not to lose hope in what they now did! But that the Dominion would soon know of who they held, and that meant that Windhelm and her entire Hold would be facing a very real threat. All of his faithful would be needed to defend their Hold's borders! 

Ranmk walked into the large tent that had been set up for the camp's leader. His companions stood outside waiting. The large Nord he'd known most of his entire life, stood there at the table, staring down at the map of Skyrim that had been tacked down to it. Looking over a stack of documents that lay to the side, he moved the markers around to their new locations.

Clearing his throat, Hjornskar finally turned to him. At first he looked startled, probably wondering why a commoner would be allowed to wander into their camp. Or perhaps that he was a courier, delivering documents. Which was exactly what Ulfric had planned, and it'd worked. They'd passed several people on their way here and had absolutely no trouble at all.

Ranmk watched as his superior's face shifted through a gambit of expression, before finally realizing who he actually was and settling on concerned and confused.

Instead of trying to explain first, it was better that he just read the orders. He raised up his arm and held out the letter to him.

Looking from the letter and then back to him several times before finally taking it. The older Nord shook his head, giving his appearance another once over. Finally he turned the letter and broke the seal, opening it up he pulled the parchment out and began to read. 

Leaning back against the table behind him, Hjornskar stared at the orders in disbelief. Written in the Jarl's own hand, not his Housecarl's. 

Giving the parchment one more glance over before his eyes once again took in his subordinate, who was dressed not in his uniform, but in the clothes of a commoner. His shaking hands lowered, loosely holding onto the orders.

"Can you at least tell me why?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lyrics ~ Deep  
> by: Nine Inch Nails
> 
> Just so everyone knows, the Mill that I'm referring to is the Mixwater Mill that is right next to the warm springs. Also, if any of you haven't read The Bear of Markarth, the book in the game, you really should. It does shed some light on some kind of disturbing facts surrounding the Markarth Incident. Of course, I'm changing that up just a touch and telling it my way, with a little lore truth thrown in. Also, I don't plan to tag for Necrophilia, as Agnin was lost in the moment and didn't know the guy was dead... or didn't care. But also because he doesn't target corpses to have sex with. It was probably a one time thing. (Hopefully O_o)


	35. Allegiance (Part One)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The change that overtook the young Kjelhe's face at the mere mention of the Mer, literally made him pause and stare at him. Just from the look on the older two's faces, they were each struggling not to raise a hand to cover his mouth in the probable fear that he would blurt something out. Something that would give away much more than they wanted.
> 
> Fighting the smile that kept wanting to spread across his own face, he continued... they were so obvious! He couldn't believe it!

I cannot be a traitor, for I owe him no allegiance;  
he is not my sovereign; he never received my homage;  
and whilst life is in this persecuted body, he shall never receive it.

**

With little else to say before turning to leave, Ranmk pointed down at the parchment, "That needs to be burnt, along with all the other documents in the camp before you leave. I'll see you back in the hold soon." 

His young face broke into a smile. Golden blonde stubble shining in the early morning sunlight as he lifted the tent flap and walked out. 

Soon there wouldn't be a single Stormcloak encampment left outside of Eastmarch hold. There wouldn't be a waterway or road into her that would be passable! 

Even as he seated his foot in the stirrup to once again mount his horse, more ships were being positioned at the entrance to their port where the White River met the Sea of Ghosts. More men and women were traveling to the shoreline, taking their place in the growing camps there.

With the Velothi Mountain range protecting them along the east and southeastern borders, they would have more soldiers to station in the areas where they were actually vulnerable. Encampments would completely line the Hold's borders, getting larger and larger the closer they were to the city. 

Trebuchets had already been built and positioned along the Sea's edge, giving them an advantage over any approaching Thalmor or Imperial vessel. But now each inland camp was to have one as well. 

Riding out of Hjornskar's camp, his eyes trailed over them as his superior gathered his men and women into a huddle, filling them in. Soon they would be taking down tents, changing into steel and iron armor he'd brought for them and packing away their supplies.

Ulfric hadn't pained over the changing of their uniforms, and why should he? Ranmk smiled to himself as his horse's hooves met the stone roadway. It was temporary. 

This change would provide those that fought for him the strength of metal armor, and while it was costing more to provide, it would save more lives. But not only that. The Thalmor and Imperials would be on the look out for their colors... their usual light armor. Blue sash and leather quilting covering their chainmail. The armor of the bear that their officers wore. 

They were in for a surprise. 

**

As soon as Kjelhe's eyes took him in he dropped to his knees, actually startling not only those others in his company, but Ulfric as well.

Valund's hand, which had held his arm all the way up the frozen stone walkway to the entrance of the city all the way up to the giant doors to the palace, was ripped free from it's grasp as the young Nord dropped to the floor, bowing to Ulfric Stormcloak. 

Their King? Their captor? Jailor? Licking his lips nervously, he and Soldin shared a nervous glance, then gave a quick bow to him before each grabbing one of Kjelhe's arms and gently bringing him back to his feet. Once again, tears were in the boy's eyes. Was it out of reverence? Respect? 

Knowing the lad for the years that he had, and getting as close as they'd gotten, he thought it was fear. Perhaps respect too, Soldin had raised him right. There was no doubt about that. But he was afraid.

Afraid of being hurt. Afraid of being seperated from his brother and or himself. Afraid of dying. Glancing down at the smaller boy, the affection in his heart for him near to bursting. It wasn't just the fear of all those things that he knew Khelhe had. It was fear of losing the possible home that was finally within his sights for the first time since his mother had passed. 

Fear of being put back out in the wilds. Fear of finally becoming what he hated in order to survive.

Fear for the Mer. Fear of what they may see while they were here.

Raising an arm protectively around Kjelhe's shoulders, feeling the boy instinctlively settle into him, all the while fighting to conceal the movement, Valund raised his eyes back up to meet Ulfric's.

He was watching him. Them.

**

He listened as Saetad spoke their names to him, introducing each one and each one giving a short bow to him again. The boy intrigued him.

Meeting them right at the door, they hadn't had any time to adjust, so it was probably a bit of a shock to see him standing there. But it was the boy's actions that had made him literally jump. He, himself, hadn't even been able to stay his reaction to it. 

Of course being who he was, he was used to getting respect, even from the time he was but a small child. But to see this... someone literally drop to their knees in front of him, hands splayed out before them, head almost to the ground, shaking. He couldn't ever remember that.

The boy had literally been trembling. Then when he raised back up he had tears in his eyes. Just watching him, he could feel the torrent of emotion that was coursing through him. He could see it, as it played out all over his young face.

And then there was them. The two grown men that guarded him, standing so close, one on each side of him. One so close in resemblance that he could only be his father, the other, having no resemblance at all... but yet _he_ was the one that felt the need to constantly be touching him. His arm wrapped protectively around the boy's shoulders, pulling him in close as if he were in danger.

It was also obvious that the redhead didn't notice the change of expression on the face of the father at their physical contact.

Immediately, he knew who he would be speaking to first. The one that would be completely honest with him. The one that would hold nothing back. He would spill his guts, and in the process he would reveal everything the others would try to hide.

Not that they had any ill intent mind you, but being as old and as experienced as they were, they wouldn't reveal all that he wanted. All that he needed. It was not only a warrior's, but a man's pride that kept what was in his heart concealed... hidden. 

But a boy... now that was something else entirely. He definitely intrigued him. He'd spent time in Agnin's company, and yet he still had enough innocence left in him to show what he was.

He needed people that he could trust right now. And it was the fact that they had _been_ in Agnin's company, that he needed to know all that he could get out of them. The fact that they had delivered the Mer wasn't enough.

Agnin had delivered the Mer right along with them, and he was the most untrustworthy person he'd ever known. Hence the reason he sat where he now did.

Shoving the thoughts from his head, he cleared his throat. "I feel a great need to get to know all three of you. Especially in this situation and in this troubled time... "

Saetad and Galmar both stood at his side, watching the looks on the older men's faces as he spoke, noting the look of hope rising in the young one, and the look of apprehension rising up in the them. Spreading his hand out to gesture to his palace, "I, and all who are my allies here, are thankful for your sacrifice in delivering our young Altmer guest. I am confident that his presence here with us will mean certain victory for our people."

The change that overtook the young Kjelhe's face at the mere mention of the Mer, literally made him pause and stare at him. Just from the look on the older two's faces, they were each struggling not to raise a hand to cover his mouth in the probable fear that he would blurt something out. Something that would give away much more than they wanted.

Fighting the smile that kept wanting to spread across his own face, he continued. _They were so obvious. He couldn't believe it!_

"But for now, you all must be in need of a hot meal... " His eyebrows raised a little, seeing how Kjelhe's face lit up at the mention of food, he let the smile overtake him, "a hot bath and some rest. Then we can talk."

Another thing that would appeal to the boy. All the comforts of home... security. He'd get all the answers he needed with just one conversation. All the answers he wanted from _them_ anyway. He had yet to get anything from the ill Mer they held.

He turned, looking to Jorleif now, Saetad at his side and the men following with Galmar taking up the rear. "There's an empty room next to the one Ralof has moved into. Would you see to having an extra cot moved in. All three of them can sleep there for now. And some extra clothing. Go find Ansi, she can size them up by a glance. And tell her to start the water boiling, we'll need enough for three men." 

Looking at Galmar with unease, Kjelhe pulled away from Valund, moving ahead a little to make sure that someone was between him and the old grizzled Nord. He could swear even with the company he'd kept over the last several years, that he'd never seen a man that looked more fierce... even paling in comparison to the Dovahkiin himself. Of course, he'd never seen the Dragonborn in action either. Something told him he didn't want to.

Ulfric kept glancing at him, watching the way his eyes combed over everything in the great hall, the awestruck look that was slowly consuming face. Slowing down enough to match the young boy's stride, he smiled at him warmly, speaking low. "Perhaps once you've eaten and bathed, I'll give you a tour of the palace." 

He watched closely as Kjelhe's smile widened, completely ignoring the boy's elders behind him. There was no point, he could already guess what he would see on their faces.

"When is the last time you had a homecooked meal?"

The smells of morning meal being prepared wafted throughout the palace as they were led upstairs, their mouths watering, stomachs grumbling. 

Kjelhe's face became thoughtful, almost sullen, to the point that he almost felt sorry for asking the question. As soon as the boy spoke, he definitely regretted it. It wasn't a baited question. He genuinly felt for his people that were hurting. 

"It was before our Ma passed some years ago. That was the last time I had something real good." Truth be told, it was well before she'd passed. They'd been dirt poor while she was ill and lucky to eat at all some days. It'd been while she was well. Well and still able to garden and cook. He missed her cooking. He missed her.

His answer catching him off guard, Ulfric turned fully to him, pausing in the hallway now tight with all their bodies. "Your Ma?"

He turned and looked at Soldin, now realizing what the resemblance really was that he'd noticed. He wasn't his father. Interesting. "He's not yours, is he?"

Soldin almost hated to answer the question, fearing that it would just fuel Ulfric's fire, making the already tense situation just that much worse. No choice. "I'm his brother. Our father died fighting in the war right after he was born, I raised him though... so he's mine all the same."

The bitterness deep inside of him increased. He'd heard so many stories just like this. Similar endings. Families torn apart, children left behind with no one, begging in the streets. They were trying to do everything they could here in the city, making sure they all had cots for the night and food. But this situation... it was an epidemic all over their land. 

He wouldn't say what he wanted to. He would wait. Wait until he knew where they all stood. How they all felt. "I'm sorry for your loss." His deep blue eyes now landing back onto Kjelhe. "I really am."

Right then, seeing the look in the boy's eyes, he wanted to guarantee him that he'd have a home there. That he would be safe. That he'd never have to resort to the lifestyle he'd had to in the past to survive again. But he couldn't. Not until he knew them. And even then he couldn't guarantee his safety. They were gearing up for war. When it all was said and done, none of them may be safe.

That fact, was ripping him apart inside. The fact that they'd lost everything at such a young age. The fact that his brother had been forced into the position of being a father to his brother, and man of the house, after facing horrible loss himself. The fact that this young boy didn't know what his own father truly even looked like... he didn't remember him. 

The fact that they'd even had to resort to this kind of life to get by. It made him sick. 

Suddenly Ulfric stopped before a door, turning the handle, he walked in motioning for them to follow. This is where you'll be quartered for now. Turning, he motioned to the large bed. "There should be enough room here for at least two of you. I didn't think you'd mind sharing... " his eyes combed over them... it was dead quiet. "One of the servants is bringing a cot and your meal... some extra clothing. You can bathe separately once you've eaten."

They filed in, allowing him room to pass. Galmar and Seatad stood at the doorway waiting for him, watching as he turned again to address them one last time. "The Dovahkiin and my Captain are just down the hall from you, in case you should need anything." 

His eyes locking with Soldin's and Valund's both, "Also, just so you know, there will be guards posted outside... for your safety."

Soldin's jaw clenched up! He wanted to see the look on Valund's face, but didn't dare take his eyes off Ulfric! "Safety?!"

Ulfric's head tilted to the side just a bit before he nodded. "Yes. You're all very important to me and our people's cause. Your safety is my utmost concern... please, eat and rest. You'll be called when the bath water is ready." 

He backed out, shutting the heavy door. They stood there silently, listening as the lock fell into place.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Quoted : William Wallace to King Edward
> 
> When Ranmk is going over in his mind the encampments and such in the beginning of the chapter, the trebuchets being (already) positioned along the sea's edge means they were positioned there shortly after Ulfric had killed Torygg.
> 
> As always, thanks for reading and for your patience.


	36. In Private

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Soldin's face broke into a smile just thinking about it. His baby brother, standing there in front of him... in new fucking clothes... all the smudged up black war paint finally gone and he looked just like he should've looked... before...
> 
> His chest clenched up, the smile on his face crumbling. Throwing his hands up to cover his mouth, he sobbed out! His feet pushing hard against the end of the trough, he tilted his head back, staring up at the stone block ceiling through his tear filled eyes, crying out into the palms of his hands!

**

Safety. That's exactly what they were told while being patted down by Ulfric's guard until nothing remained but what they wore. He understood it, but that didn't make it any easier to deal with. 

He hadn't been without a weapon since he could even remember. He'd _always_ been able to protect himself _and_ his brother! Now he felt vulnerable. He felt terrified, and not just for himself either.

He eyed the lock, realizing that even if he did have a pick there was no where to go once they got out. They'd be met at the door by armed soldiers and they had no weapons. And now remembering what Ulfric had said, they were right down the hall from his Captain _and_ the damned Dovahkiin! His mind spun with it all. And it was too fucking late! They were here!

Valund eased up to him, so quiet that he _had_ to be holding his breath. So very quiet, he whispered in his ear, "What do we do Soldin?"

The gravity of the situation taking full hold of him, he turned to stare at the redhead, so close he could feel his friend's breath on his face. He shook his head, his eyes darting around... "I... I don't know. I guess we wait." 

What else was there?

Valund's eyes caught movement to the side of them and he turned. Soldin's eyes following his, locked onto his little brother, taking in what he was doing. 

Kjelhe was wandering about, completely oblivious to their concern, literally looking at and touching everything in the room. His mouth open in an O of complete amazement, his eyes wide.

Evidently done inspecting their surroundings, the young Nord walked to the bed, turned around so that his back was to it, spread his arms wide and did a backwards fall, landing square in the center of it. Laying there with the most contented smile on his face he thought he'd ever seen. Soldin slowly shook his head, his own smile growing in spite of himself and all his concerns.

His heart flooding with so much emotion for a moment that he didn't dare speak. He just took him in. He didn't want to ruin it for him with all his worries.

As soon as they entered the palace he'd felt like a caged animal and it'd only worsened the farther in they'd gone. Now standing here locked in this room, he could panic or he could look at it another way. They were finally there. They'd reached their destination and they were safe. At least he thought they were. If they weren't, would Ulfric have put them up in a room? In the same hall as his Dragonborn? His Captain? He _wanted_ them safe! 

If he didn't, they'd be sharing a cell with Agnin. That's where they'd be, and deep down he knew it.

Watching his baby brother as he ran his hands over the soft linens, moving his body around on the downy mattress, his heart ached and for a moment all he could feel was regret. He'd wanted to make him happy. He'd tried so very hard.

Somewhere in the back of his mind a voice sounded. The same voice that'd kept him going all the years he'd looked after him. _'You kept him alive. That's what you did. You kept him breathing.'_

What he wanted to say to himself right then and there, was that he'd played a giant part in getting them where they were, and _that_ had resulted in the happiness his brother was experiencing. It wasn't just Ulfric that was providing it.

Running a hand through his hair, he blew out a sharp breath. Gods! Was he fucking jealous? Jealous that within moments, Ulfric could provide his baby brother with everything that _he_ could not?! Everything he'd tried so godsdamned hard to provide all his fucking life and couldn't?!

Letting out a short, quiet laugh, he must be losing it. Is this what it was like to be a father? Going crazy over every little thing? Getting jealous because another man could provide for his brother what _he_ couldn't?

Shaking his head, he took in a silent breath, letting it out through his nose. His eyes leaving his overly content brother and finding his friend's. That's immediately when everything he'd been thinking came to a sudden halt, and everything he'd subconsciously noticed while they were searching along side the Dovahkiin and then being brought into the palace and led here, came back to him. 

Valund's gaze was locked onto Kjelhe, his eyes heavy lidded, his mouth open just a touch. His arms hanging limply at his sides. 

Standing there taking him in, Soldin thought back to all the little things that he'd overlooked. All the little nuances. Things that seemed like nothing at the time. Valund's need to take control of him... to protect him. Touch him. Even so to speak up about the boys concern to Saetad's face. What had he said again? _'If anyone tries to hurt Kjelhe, I- '_ Then his little brother's reaction to it. Shoving his face harder into his back, in order to hide his embarrassment. 

Swallowing, his mind kept downplaying it. Valund had been with them a long time. He'd taken to Kjelhe like he was his own sibling, and being in Agnin's company and seeing the things they'd seen, he'd felt the need to keep him safe. 

It was nothing, just his overactive imagination. In fact, he should be ashamed of thinking such a thing. _This was a father's way and nothing more._

Raising his hand to clap his friend on the arm, before they made contact, Valund was springing forward and flopping down onto the bed with Kjelhe. The redhead's eyes coming up to meet his own, he grinned sheepishly at him, his voice still low but he could hear in it that his mood was brightening up. 

"Come on Soldin! There's plenty of room!"

He walked over to join them, now smiling himself and feeling like an ass for his earlier thoughts. Well, most of them. 

Kjelhe turned to look at him. He was on the verge of giggling. He looked so fucking young! And all he could hope right then, was that he'd done the right thing in bringing them there.

Valund's eyes finally met his own and paused. His mouth opened to speak and before anything could come out, the sound of a key turning the lock stopped him. Immediately they all sat up, Soldin rising so that he could face the door properly, Valund keeping his place on the bed next to his brother.

The door opened, being held in place by the arm of a male Stormcloak soldier, his headgear was removed and he looked in on them as an elderly Nord woman entered, carrying a large tray piled high with a steaming platter and a pitcher, that from the smell, had to be tea. Three pewter mugs, along with plates and forks lay atop folded linen napkins. 

Kjelhe jumped up, holding his hands out to assist the old woman, his face beaming with excitement. "Here, let me help!"

He chortled on and on. The woman smiling at him but staying silent, listening to all he said. "I'm so hungry! Oh Gods! I haven't seen so much food since... " 

Valund just sat there, gripping the edge of the bed watching him go on and on, his true age coming out more and more with each word. 

With everything laid out and Kjelhe's eyes brimming over, taking in all there was to eat. His hands were held up to his mouth, either wondering what he should start with first or trying to hide the fact that he was probably drooling, she finally spoke, startling them all. 

"The bath water is almost ready. I'll be back up shortly to fetch one of you, whoever wants to go first. Trough will only hold one man at a time." Giving each one of them in turn a slight smile, "I'll have fresh clothes waiting for you down there." 

Her eyes taking in what they were wearing, her voice wavered some, "Um, we'll ah... we can mend your things up and clean them... get them back to you later."

Just looking at how excited Kjelhe was, there was no question about it, they would be letting him go first.

**

Grasping the edges of the steel trough, Soldin eased back into the still very, hot water. His belly pleasantly full, he closed his eyes, shutting them to his new surroundings he listened to the distant voices that he could hear as the daily activity of the palace increased in the outer halls.

Listening and thinking, he couldn't get over how his brother had looked when he'd come back. Skin still pink from the steam and temperature of the first hot bath he'd had in over three years. His long, deep auburn hair neatly combed back and actually tangle free. The natural wave already taking over and by the time he, himself, got back from his own bath, he'd be seeing it hang in loose ringlets that ended at the boy's shoulder blades.

His teeth clean and shining bright, his face shaven, all except the tiny half goatee on his chin and lower jaw that he could grow... simply cause it was the only thing he _could_ grow. The rest of his face grew in patchy, keeping him from even a decent moustache.

Soldin's face broke into a smile just thinking about it. His baby brother, standing there in front of him in new fucking clothes. All the smudged up black war paint finally gone and he looked just like he should've looked... before...

His chest clenched up, the smile on his face crumbling. Throwing his hands up to cover his mouth, he sobbed out! His feet pushing hard against the end of the trough, he tilted his head back, staring up at the stone block ceiling through his tear filled eyes, crying out into the palms of his hands.

**

In a dark recess that adjoined the bathing room with the larder, Ulfric stood quietly, his back resting against the wall, he listened to the man weep.

There'd been no intention of disturbing his new guest during his bath. He had no plans to talk to any of them until they were fed, clean and rested. It had been Ansi, that had heard the man while she made note of their inventory and had motioned for him to come.

He'd stood just outside of the larder, talking to Saetad, with Galmar present, both of them getting the lowdown on the men and Saetad's take on the situation. His take on each one of them, so that when he _did_ talk to them he'd have a better feeling for the situation at hand and perhaps a little more insight to what each one of them was like.

With the door being guarded and Saetad's word that he felt no one would be foolish, he'd left the door unlocked. After all, where could they go? They'd wanted to be here.

Ansi had also filled him in on their reaction to the meal that was placed before them, mostly the young Nord that had bathed first. How excited he was, and how helpful. And just as he'd thought, the boy's welfare was both of the men's focus. After all, they'd both decided that he bathe first, then Soldin second, who seemed to be the leader of the group. 

Ulfric listened to him, hearing him dunk under then come back up. The hitching in his chest subsiding as he dunked under once more. More than likely trying to wash away his tears in the process of getting clean.

His own chest tightened as he stood in the shadows, trying to imagine what the man had suffered watching his brother... his son, living the way they'd had to and him not having the means to change it. 

If he could talk to him about these tears, would he learn they were from relief? Or regret. Or perhaps a good dose of both. He'd find out soon enough. Saetad was on his way up to the room to see how they were getting on... see if the boy was ready to be shown around. Now was the best time while his surrogate father was steeping in his woes. 

Perhaps he could talk to him and have him back before he was really missed. 

**

Motioning quietly for the guards to leave the hall, Saetad eased up to the door and placed his ear to it. He was hoping that with big brother gone and the young one all clean and fed, he'd get a chance to hear a little bit of unguarded conversation. A little more to give to Ulfric to ease some of the pain of really conversing for the first time. Give him a little more to work with.

He wanted to get the boy alone and let him run his lips. Kind of the way he had while sitting naked in the hot springs, while his shocked elders stumbled over each other trying to shut him up.

His lips curled into a grin just thinking about it as his ear met the cold surface of the door.

Ignoring the beating of his own heart, his ear finally tuned in to the sounds inside the room. They were whispering to each other. The older one's voice, Valund, talking low, then the boy's higher pitched voice answering him.

After just a brief moment of hearing what he'd heard, he sank down to his knees and looked through the keyhole, a flurry of emotion coursing through him.

Closing his mouth to silence his breathing against the door so they wouldn't hear him, and being able to put an image to what he'd just heard... he still couldn't believe it!

Valund stood in the candle's glow. Just a faint bit of morning light coming in through the stained glass window on this side of the palace. He held Kjelhe to him so close, that in the tiny bit of space he had to see by, he could barely make out where one began and the other ended.

Both pairs of leggings hung to knees or further. Valund's arms wrapped around the young Nord, his hands running from his back to the pale cheeks of his muscled little bottom, giving a light playful squeeze periodically before running back up to hold him closer.

He seemed to be whispering against Kjelhe's mouth, "We don't have much time... it'll have to be quick... "

The boy swiveled his hips against his elder teasingly, his arms raising from where they'd been seated on Valund's hips to now tangle into his hair! He heard their lips meet as Valund reached down between them. Kjelhe groaned out as the older Nord took hold of both their cocks and slowly backed his smaller lover to the bed.

_Shit!_ Now he definitely couldn't ignore them! Raising to his feet, he quietly turned his back to the door, hoping that Soldin didn't choose now to turn the corner.

What he'd just witnessed had been quite a shock to _himself,_ he could only imagine that big brother did _not_ know about this! And if he found out, what the hell would he do? The man was already completely stressed, he definitely didn't need this to deal with on top of everything else!

He feared for Valund if he did find out, even if Kjelhe was willing and from what he'd seen he definitely was.

Then it hit him. What if Ulfric found out? What would _he_ think? What would he do? After everything he'd gone through being captured, how would this sit with him?

Turning back to the door, he decided... and knocked.

The startled sound of movement filled his ears, as he heard both of them get off the bed and scramble to right their clothing. Waiting just a moment, he raised his hand to knock again just as the door opened.

Kjelhe stood in front of Valund, his hands still running over his new tunic, as if trying to make sure each bit of it was in place and hadn't left anything to be seen that shouldn't. His eyes wide, mouth open and paused to speak in their defense, the flush of their activity staining his freshly washed and shaven face. 

The smell of lust and seed filled the room as he quietly walked in and shut the door behind him. Leaning his back up against it, he stared hard at them both, trying to figure out what to say and how fast he could say it.

Pulling in a deep breath, he began, his eyes shifting between them back and forth. He whispered, "You'll be wanting to clear the smell from this room before Soldin gets back, lest you want to explain to him what's been goin on between the two of you."

Both their eyes widened to the point of filling their faces. Kjelhe's mouth dropped! Panic taking over his face... then fear. He turned to Valund, looking at him almost pleadingly. 

Saetad turned and opened the door, giving a quick peek down the hallway, noting it clear, he fanned the door real quick, speaking to them behind him. "Ulfric wants to show Kjelhe around while you bathe, Valund. I suggest you agree to it. Mayhap it best for Soldin to find you alone, instead of you alone with _him_ right now."

Valund leaned in, placing a kiss on Kjelhe's forehead. Motioning for him to go, he whispered back to the Dovahkiin. "You won't give us away?"

Taking hold of Kjelhe's arm, Saetad gently pulled him out of the room as he turned. "Boy's old enough to choose. I won't judge... it's not my place."

Nodding to his superior, his eyes met Kjelhe's. 

Seeing the concern his look held, Saetad whispered to him. "He's safe Valund. There's no cause to worry." 

The door closed, leaving him alone. Turning, he dropped back down to the bed, his eyes landing on the wet stain that now blemished the once pristine coverlet, _his_ undealt with erection now long gone. 

Of course he'd lie and say it was just him taking himself in hand to relieve pent up stress once the boy was gone. That would explain the stain and the smell, not too much different from the stories they'd both had to tell in the past. 

Question was, how long was Soldin gonna buy those stories and what would happen when they were finally found out? It was only a matter of time. He had no intention of letting loose of Kjelhe now that they were this close. He'd die first. 

His eyes landed back on the wet spot, thinking bout how good the boy'd felt, looked and smelled... better than ever.

Letting out an exasperated sigh. Yeah, it was best that he be the only one here when Soldin returned.


	37. Road To Dragon Bridge

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thaer instantly stopped talking as Fralia moved from behind her stall. Their eyes locked for just one moment, and she was gone.
> 
> Backing away from Idolaf, his hands went up to his mouth in shock! A sharp breath sucked in loudly as the seemingly old and frail woman ran up the steps, taking a sharp right toward Jorvaskr.
> 
> Thaer's eyes landed on Idolaf's. "We have to leave! We have to leave now!"

**

Bjorlam gave the reigns a slight tug, slowing them down as the lantern posts came into view. Thaer had finally settled down some once he realized that he was actually safe and remained quiet in the back of his carriage. His arms were wrapped tightly around his knees, and even though it was obvious where they were, his eyes were alert as he looked around, waiting for someone to spring out any second and take him back.

"We're nearing the stables Thaer. I really think you should see the Jarl. I don't thi- "

His shook his head profusely, clasping his hands tightly together! "No! He's not taken a side in this, and I need to see an Imperial!!"

Bjorlam just shook his head. Even if the Jarl hadn't chosen a side, just bringing him here would involve them. Especially once he took him to the only Imperial they had there. Once that happened it would be blown wide for all to know.

Battleborns were all a bunch of uppity so and so's, constantly traipsing through the city, pushing their weight around. One of the only examples some of their people had really had of an Imperial, and all Idolaf's behavior did was give them reason to question if they were all like him.

All of it made him glad he didn't live inside the gates. Skulvar had gone and built him a small room attached to their house some years ago, giving him a more permanent place and the feel of a real home.

When it was nice and the weather warm enough, he would sometimes sleep in a tent just outside of the garden area across from his carriage. But when it was harsh out he at least had a warm, dry place to lay his head.

They were like family anyways, his horses were cared for and had shelter and Skulvar's family could use the decent amount of coin that he gave them each month. It's not like he had anything else to spend it on. He'd never had a wife and probably never would, livin on the road they way he did. No woman would want to pledge herself to a man that was always gone. To be honest, he couldn't do that to another anyways.

A woman deserved someone that would be around for her and their young. Nope, his hand was good enough. Which was what he got most of the time, only when he had the extra coin would he pay for a tumble.

Glancing over at Thaer, he knew he'd never been married. Hell, pretty much all the drivers they knew weren't family men.

Most of the towns they were stationed at and even the ones they weren't, there were good people that offered them a place at their table, even helping them out by renting them a room at times. Also, it was a fact he knew, that most of them didn't live inside of any city. Most preferred not to. They knew too much.

When he actually _was_ here he got warm meals that Skulvar's wife would cook, food and supplies to take with him on his routes. There was little reason for him to even enter the city, unless he needed for something material. And then he would go in and get it and get out!

Since the war had started, the tension inside had grown and grown until it settled over the city like a black cloud. Especially since Balgruuf had named that bastard Thane, unknowing of his true colors at the time! Word was that Balgruuf regretted it, everyone knew his brother wasn't happy about it. But at the time, they'd thought him a hero.

In truth, he was. He'd killed the dragon that had threatened them. But as soon as it was over he'd left, goin straight to Windhelm. It was shortly after that, word had come from others that he was one of them that took part in the Markarth incident.

Many of their people, then knowing of who the Jarl had named Thane became panicked. More and more cries were heard for the Jarl to take the Empire's side to protect their city and allow the Imperials to be stationed there. Everyone knew what a strategic position they held for both sides, and no one wanted the inevitable ruin that a battle would bring.

On top of _that,_ the fact that the Companions were there and wouldn't lift a blasted finger to fight for their own land, pissed many a man and woman off! Sure their faction was still held in reverence by most, but they were founded to protect the land, weren't they?

Now all they did was fight for coin and sit in Jorvaskr drinking. Enjoying their place within the city, while the rest of Skyrim suffered the onslaught of the encroachers that now took their very rights away! Their safety!

Their supply wagons and trade had been severely limited due to not only bandits taking advantage of the political strife that was taking place, but the Stormcloaks! Who had absolutely no problem robbing and pillaging their own people to help fund a war their so called King had started! No integrity at all!

And in the meantime, instead of helping their city and working to protect the supplies that they so desperately needed, they would only help if the Jarl's coin was present! When they were _all_ hurting for coin!

In _his_ opinion, if they wanted to keep their beloved place within the city, they should be helping protect it! The ones that had at one time driven away their enemies, now were reduced to nothing but glorified mercenaries and drunkards.

Their very own people had split the land. That in itself causing the damned Thalmor to take severe action. And what was the Thalmor presence there, but an invasion! It was!

If only the Gray-Manes and the others that supported the uprising could see how Skyrim needed the Empire. Without their aid and trade, the people that resided there would only hurt more than they already did. If they would just do what was needed, the Thalmor would back off. He was sure of it.

Bjorlam shook his head in frustration. How in Oblivion could Ulfric handle taking care of Skyrim, if he couldn't even fund his blasted war without stealing from his own people to do it!

Bringing the wagon to a halt in front of the stables, his eyes widened as his inner rant brought a very real thought to his mind. _How in oblivion were they going to get away with this? How?!_

The very real fact that the Dragonborn was their bloody Thane just slapped him hard in the face. Along with the fact that he definitely wasn't on the right side of things. If it was found out that _he'd_ helped... that _they'd_ helped. Oh Gods! 

Bjorlam's head swam with the revelation as Thaer climbed down from the carriage and started walking toward the gates, a town's guard walking out to meet them.

Swiftly he jumped down to the stone pathway, grabbing Thaer by the shoulder, whispering in his ear as his friend tried to jerk away from his grasp! "Look, you gotta let me handle this! You can't be goin on to the guards about needin an Imperial or they'll get the Jarl!"

Thaer pulled away from him in distress! His face pulled into a look like he was ready to fight, and at the same time weep. Standing by the carriage, he watched as Bjorlam met the guard and put on his best attempt to act nonchalant.

Trying to lean back against the carriage, he knew he had to keep it together, but just the thought of being stopped made his guts churn. He swore if anyone tried to stop him, there'd be fucking blood spilt! He was not going to be detained! And if anyone tried to...

Overhearing their conversation, forced his eyes back over to them. 'Who've you got with you Bjorlam? Man looks like shit... you need a healer?'

Bjorlam glanced back to him. 'No, nothin like that. He was forced off the road by bandits. I just need to take him in and get him some remedy and a meal, then we'll be back on our way.'

The guard finally nodded, Bjorlam raised his hand to motion him forward.

The whole way through the city, Bjorlam watched him. Even though it was cool outside, his face was completely covered in beads of sweat. It ran down his temples in rivulets, literally to the point that the skin on his neck was now glistening wet. If there was anyway possible for him to look worse than he already did, it'd been accomplished.

His tunic and leggings were stained from dirt and sweat. Obvious splatter from someone's blood, was all over the front of him. Numerous areas had been ripped, probably from his jaunt through the forest as he'd made his way to the point they'd crossed paths and Bjorlam had picked him up.

His eyes were wide with fear, like that of someone that was just waiting to be found out, or who had been. They nervously looked about in every direction, and his skin seemed to almost twitch. His breathing was erratic, when he wasn't holding it.

Just as he was about to take hold of his arm and plead with him to calm down, Idolaf happened down the steps, "Thaer! What in God's name are you doing he-"

The words of greeting froze in his throat as he took in Thaer's appearance! Before he could even cross the few steps to him, Thaer ran to him, grabbing him by the front of his uniform! The man's normally deep voice, now high-pitched as he expressed his overwhelming relief at seeing him.

"I need your help!"

Tears spilled over, now mixing with the sweat that covered Thaer's face! "He... he needs your help! You've gotta come with me! You've gotta get me to Solitude!"

Bjorlam and Idolaf both now shushed him, trying to get him calmed! The last thing they needed was a damned scene in the middle of the market place!

Seemingly oblivious to the crowd they were drawing, he ranted on and on. It seemed the only solitary thing in his field of vision, was the Imperial before him. Olfina Grey-Mane was now standing beside Idolaf, listening in, her eyes combing over the terrified man that clung to her lover's brother.

Carlotta had stopped her daughter, telling her to stand behind their stall in case of trouble, while she slowly made her way over, tilting her head to try and hear. 

The Bosmer stared, watching as Belethor's door opened, the Breton coming out to find out what all the commotion was. The guard that normally stood between his shop and the Alchemist's was now slowly approaching the growing crowd.

Thaer instantly stopped talking as Fralia moved from behind her stall. Their eyes locked for just one moment, and she was gone.

Backing away from Idolaf, his hands went up to his mouth in shock! A sharp breath sucked in loudly as the seemingly old and frail woman ran up the steps, taking a sharp right toward Jorvaskr!

Thaer's eyes landed on Idolaf's! "We have to leave! We have to leave now!"

Idolaf turned to Bjorlam! "What in blazes is going on! I don't even kn- "

Bjorlam tugged at him as more guard made their way down the steps. By the time they reached the gates, the three of them were on a dead run. Pushing past the guard that had let them in, they ran toward his carriage, hearing the guards yelling for them to stop. 

Thaer jumped into the back. Idolaf barely had time to get up into the front seat before Bjorlam had whipped the reigns, taking off. Thaer huddled into the corner against the backboard of the carriage, as close to the driver's seat as he could get. His hands covering his mouth as hysterical cries ushered forth from his lips. 

Speeding away down the stone pathway in a full gallop, he watched the guards stop by the stables as they shrank away in the distance. It was only when they got past Fort Greymoor that Thaer was finally able to quit his crying. 

Hearing him calm, Bjorlam tried to focus on the best way to go. He wouldn't take the route through Morthal, no sense in getting into that shit weather if there was no need. All that would do is slow them down. 

They'd go up through Dragon Bridge. Warmer weather meant faster travel, and the closer they got to the capital the less Stormcloak activity they would have. Perhaps along the way they'd run across more Imperials. It wouldn't hurt to have a few more with them. 

He'd slowed down some, getting the horses to a steady trot. They would take a slight break in awhile as the horses would need a rest, some food and drink. They would as well. 

Idolaf sat quiet beside him for a moment, then when he thought Thaer had calmed down enough to speak, he asked him. "I need to know what's going on. All of it, in detail."

Turning around in his seat, his arm resting on the backboard, he looked down at the Nord. "What happened to you, Thaer? Who needs our help?"

Actually taking in a few deep breaths before he was able to speak, "I was.. was on my way to Winterhold. Picked up an Elf in Solitude."

Just thinking about the poor young Mer had his tears spilling again. He couldn't help it, he just couldn't. All the horrible things he'd seen. 

Wiping his eyes to no avail, the tears kept coming. "Just got off a ship that'd docked that day. He was goin to the Mage's school he said." 

Bjorlam pulled one of the knapsacks from the floorboards up to the seat and felt around for a bottle, handing it back to Thaer. Idolaf watched in amazement as Thaer pulled the cork out of the bottle by his teeth and spat it away, downing it's contents. 

He'd seen this man many times in Solitude and had never once seen him even a tiny bit out of control. Seeing him like this was starting to scare the hell out of him.

Pulling the backside of his arm across his mouth, he continued, staring out at the land they were passing as he spoke. "Young... youngest Elf I've seen in a long time. Altmer."

His eyes met Idolaf's. "Before we could even get to Dawnstar for a rest, bandits hit us." Thaer shook his head, tears falling from his jaw down onto his fouled up tunic. He couldn't say what had happened in the back of his carriage... he wouldn't! 

"They... they forced him out of the carriage and searched him. Found a tattoo. Tattoo of the Aldmeri banner on the back of his neck."

Idolaf's head tilted back and for just a moment he closed his eyes, _"Shit!"_

Thaer shook his head, now turning to face him. "You've no idea... no idea. Idolaf... that Elf is the heir to the Aldmeri bloodline! The heir! They forced us to travel to Windhelm. Ulfric has him!"

Bjorlam had already heard it. He knew how bad it was, but this Imperial... he could tell the man was completely reeling from it! 

Idolaf looked over at him, "You got another of those bottles?"

He nodded to the knapsack and the large Nord fished around, finding two more. Instead of Bjorlam taking one, he handed his over to Thaer. 

He'd partaken enough after picking up his friend along the roadway. Thaer scaring the shit out of him as he'd run from the woods, screaming for help! They'd both had a few then. 

Now they were running low, and with their speedy exit from Whiterun, they hadn't had time to even stock up on any supplies. He figured if they were careful, they would have just enough to get them till Dragon Bridge, then they could gather what they needed before moving on. 

Turning his head, he looked at Idolaf, swearing he'd never seen him look so severe. The empty bottle sat at his side, one hand idly picking at the label, the other clenched up into a fist in his lap. "We're stopping in Dragon Bridge right?"

Bjorlam nodded, "Aye... "

Idolaf nodded, staring ahead. "We'll tell Commander Maro. He's stationed there at the outpost, get some more to follow us up into Solitude for safety." 

He swallowed, letting loose with a deep breath. "I just don't know how things could get any worse." 

Bjorlam pulled his eyes back to the road, the tension in his chest coiling around his heart like a fucking snake! "I do... we could be Stormcloaks." Looking back at Idolaf, his face had gone a sickly pallid color, "What do you think the Dominion's gonna do?"

"I don't know. We won't know till we till we get there and tell the General what's happened."

He turned now to Thaer. His arms were wrapped around his knees, the back of his head resting against the backboard just behind where they sat. "Thaer... you do know that you're probably gonna have to talk to the Emissary about this, don't you?"

Thaer just closed his eyes, "Aye... "

Idolaf turned around to face forward. As much as he wanted to get there, he didn't. He'd only seen her once from a distance and she'd scared the hell out of him. There was no way he'd want to talk to her directly, now it seemed he may not have a choice. 

They were all involved. Every last man, woman and child in Skyrim was involved. Whether they wanted to be or not.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not getting down on the Companions here, but I honestly think that with everything going on and their blase attitude about it all, that there would be some pissed off people. Next one coming.
> 
> 04/19/18 - Next chapter will be split into two parts. First part almost done, should be out tomorrow.


End file.
